


Lyrium Rose

by shuubunni



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Possible smut (i havent decided yet), Retelling, Romance, Shipping, Slow Burn, messing with canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24869263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuubunni/pseuds/shuubunni
Summary: Roslyn Hawke became a well known mercenary in Kirkwall...but it wasnt enough to protect herself. Her business partnership with Varric Tethras draws her further into the intrigues of the city...and connects her with a certain elf that will change her life forever.This is heavily ship driven but with a lot of plot to go with it.
Relationships: Fenris/Female Hawke
Kudos: 10





	1. A Deal Struck

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this years ago and have several chapters in the wings I'll be uploading periodically. Hopefully once I get this uploaded I'll be writing it together with Memoris.

He was becoming more and more intrigued by her.

The Merchant Prince of Kirwall first heard of Roslyn Hawke not long after she got off the boat. It wasn't more then a fortnight before she began to carve a name for herself in the Red Irons - not an easy feat to accomplish. Soon, all of Lowtown was buzzing with gossip about her. The people even so much as called her the "Rose Hawk," for her dashing good looks and dark, rose-red hair.

But they also choose the name because of her thorny talons.

Although little bled through as far as her personality was concerned, what  _ did _ get whispered about was her efficiency. The Rose got the job done, clean and professionally every time. Whenever a job was offered to her, it was known that she would accomplish it with little effort on her part. The guard rarely got involved - though Varric's sources said she had some connection in them - and she currently had a sky-high body count. She wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty, that was for sure.

Quite impressive for a Ferelden fresh off the boat; and for a woman who beat people to death with a glorified stick.

Soon, she was the talk of Lowtown. Everyone there knew of her and knew to steer clear of the Rose, lest they be hit upside the head with a stick. Even those going after the Red Irons began to back off, out of fear of incurring her wrath. But, her year of indentured service came to a close, and the Rose Hawk declined the offer to stay on.

Unlike her brother.

Varric grimaced at the thought of Carver Hawke.

Even though very few people knew about Roslyn's personality, her little brother was a complete loudmouth. Varric had seen him often, drunk off of his ass in the Hanged Man, bitching and moaning. He never shut up about how no one cared for him, how he was always in the shadow of his oh-so-special older sister, blah de blah. It was the same old song and dance, and Varric - and most regulars at the tavern - were getting tired of it.

One would think Carver would stand out more. After all, he was a towering hulk of a man, armed with a sword the Merchant Prince was  _ pretty sure _ was compensating for something. Some even said he was actually pretty decent at using the thing, too. Unlike his sister's dark rose red hair, Carver looked much like a giant carrot, with his bright ginger hair and coated in freckles. But, there was that biting personality, and whenever he opened that big mouth of his...

"Bah!" Varric snorted from his perch. He was looking forward to his "encounter" with the Rose Hawk. No time to be brooding about the inevitable meeting of her whiny brother, too.

He knew that Carver had stayed on with the Red Irons, but Roslyn was another story. She was looking for work, but wasn't having much luck despite - or perhaps  _ due  _ \- to her rather infamous reputation. That, and she was a Ferelden refugee. But, she was becoming desperate, starting to do odd jobs for little pay, for rumor has it - and Varric  _ always _ made sure to double check rumors - she had some big secret to hide. A big secret that required a lot of gold to keep hidden.

Speculations aside, Varric would find out soon enough.

He knew she had caught wind of his brother's expedition. Of course he knew she heard about it, since Varric had made  _ sure _ she did. But, he also knew Bartrand - he wouldn't hire some nobody Ferelden without the clink of gold. He would surely turn the Rose Hawk and her brother down on their offer to join up.

So, Varric waited. He knew she would leave the Merchant's Guild dejected and unguarded. But, to guide her on the path towards him, Varric paid some low-life pickpocket to steal her purse, leading the Rose right into the Merchant Prince's cross-hairs.

"Hey!" He heard a woman's Ferelden-accented voice that echoed down the alley way he wanted. Varric steadied Bianca on his shoulder.

"Showtime." He said confidently, waiting for the urchin to arrive. He'd have to aim carefully and avoid any vitals.

Only, no one ever came.

Varric heard a cry and a crash coming from around the corner, followed by a merchant's cart rolling across the enterance to the alley. The cutpurse lay sprawled across the back of the cart with a wooden, leather-bound longmace tangled in his legs.

The Rose Hawk and her towering brother rounded the corner. She quickly rushed towards the urchin, planting her foot solidly on the poor boy's chest.

"Why can't you just  _ beg _ like everyone else in this city?" Hawke commented slyly, crossing her arms and cocking a cool grin.

The poor urchin looked like he nearly shat himself.

"Now that your little theft has been thwarted," She continued, uncrossing one arm and holding her hand out towards him, "Why don't you  _ return _ my purse, like a good little boy?" He smirk widened, "Lest a guard decides to show up...?"

The color drained from the poor boy's skin. He stole a pathetic glance over at Varric, who shook is head, knowing full well that the plan had fallen through. It was a lost cause at this point. Swallowing, the cutpurse handed the bag of coins back. Hawke took it and returned it to her pocket, but she kept her foot on his chest.

The urchin swallowed again, "P-pl-please, d-don't call--"

The Rose leaned down. "Please... _ what _ ?" She leaned down, turning her ear towards him.

He gulped. "P-please, Messere..." The urchin mumbled, "Pl-please d-don't call th-the guards..."

Roslyn leaned back. "That's better!" She chuckled, removing her foot from his chest and reaching down and untangling her staff with a heavy mace at the end from his legs. "Now, what did we learn?"

The boy staggered to his feet. "N-not...to steal...?" He muttered sheepishly.

"Not to steal from two  _ obviously armed _ individuals." The Rose corrected with a grin. "Now, why don't you be a good boy and try to beg instead of cutting purses?" The urchin nodded rapidly, Hawke slapping him on the shoulder and sending him on his way.

" _ Must _ you always be so dramatic?" Carver grumbled while his sister replaced her staff back in it's holster.

"I don't know," She replied with a smirk, "Must  _ you _ always have a weasel fused up your arse?"

Varric liked this human's style.

The pair of siblings rounded the corner fully and began to walk in his direction.  _ Perfect _ . Now he could introduce himself, and get a measure of her.

With her so close, Varric found himself briefly studying her. She was short - well, not to  _ him, _ everyone was tall next to him - barely coming up to Caver's chest. Of course, she still seemed towering next to the dwarf, but was middling height next to her brother (most humans were, for that matter come to think of it).

Of course, she had her trademark dark rose red hair. It was long - down past her shoulder blades - and gently wavy, the tresses tied loosely at the nape of her neck. Beyond that, the Rose Hawk had sharp features - as did Carver - but hers were noticeably sharper. Her green-blue eyes were bright, and she had fairer skin then the other Hawke did and less freckles. Some obvious sun burns rested across the bridge of her nose and along her upper arms, but it wasn't anything to deter what would probably be considered good looks (though to Varric, most humans looked the same). Her staff was strapped to her back and had it's trademark heavy mace at the end, though it was still taller than she was and was mostly a staff than a mace...hence him dubbing it a “longmace.” She wore simple leather armor, in contrast to the maile and giant sword her brother carried.

"You're such a bitch," Carver commented over at Hawke, his sister rolling her eyes.

"And you're a dick, what else is new?" She replied dryly, shrugging her shoulders. Carver was about to retort, when Varric decided to step in.

"Nice moves out there." The pair of Hawke siblings stopped in their tracks and looked down at the dwarf. "You gotta keep your eyes on your coin here - Hightown is home to more cutpurses then all of Kirwall combined!"

"Probably because the people who  _ actually _ live here just piss their money away," Hawke snarked, smirking down at the dwarf. Varric couldn't contain his chuckle at the comment.

"True enough!" He stifled his laughter. "The name's Varric Tethras, at your service." He dwarf extended his hand upwards.

"Roslyn Hawke," The Rose took his hand and shook it hardily. "The angry one is my brother, Carver Hawke."

Carver rolled his eyes. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."

Hawke smirked up at him. "Only if you stop pissing and moaning, dear brother." After the snarky comment, she returned her attention back down at Varric. "So, you're a Tehras too? No relation to that prig Bartrand?"

"Unfortunately, he's my only brother," Varric said grimly, but was still smirking.

"Ah, my condolences." Hawke responded in the most insincere way possible, coming off as a dry, sarcastic comment. "I honestly  _ can't imagine _ what that must be like." She cast a sideways glance up at Caver, who scoffed at the comment. Varric had to bite the insides of his mouth not to burst out laughing at the brooding ginger's expense, lest Carver shove that sword someplace unpleasant.

"Anyway, I want to apologize for Bartrand," Varric diverged the topic back towards  _ why _ he wanted to meet the Rose. "He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."

"Damn, I  _ knew _ we were doing something wrong!" The elder Hawke chuckled, before placing her hands on her hips. "But, what does this have to do with you?"

"Everything, I'm afraid," Varric continued, heaving his shoulders in a sigh. "Look, my brother and I are in this venture together. If this falls through, I'll be just as ruined as he would."

"So...how exactly does this concern us?" Carver asked skeptically, crossing his arms. His sister nodded, raising a brow at the comment.

"Oh, trust me, it concerns you!" Varric said with a confident grin, "But, we shouldn't be discussing  _ business _ deals out here in the open."  _ And within earshot of the Merchant's Guild _ , but the Prince didn't say that out loud. "I've got a room in the Hanged Man back in Lowtown. If you want in on the expedition, meet me there."

Varric left the phrase hanging in the air, tipping his head at the red-haired Hawke siblings. He didn't even wait for a response, turning on his heel and heading back down towards the bridge.

Anyone else would be worried that they wouldn't follow, given his vague promise. But the Merchant Prince knew better. They needed money, they needed it to hide something big, and they needed assurance of a job. And the expedition was their big ticket out of the hole they were presently in.

They'd come.

\-----

"Are you  _ sure _ we can trust him?"

Roslyn gave an internal groan, listening to Carver's protest. He had been questioning their encounter with Varric all afternoon. It made her debate over the dwarf's nondescript offer all the more aggravating. Sure, she loved her brother, but sometimes he was an insufferable twat who needed to learn to shut up.  _ Especially _ when she was thinking.

Granted, Carver had some valid points. The dwarf's sudden appearance and familiarity with the Hawke siblings was...very smooth. Like he had  _ researched  _ her beforehand. Plus how he didn't seem to care much about their pasts or who they were, just that they were needed. Somehow.

But, to tell the truth, there wasn't much choice.

"What option do we have?" Roslyn looked over her shoulder at her brother, the pair heading down the crowded streets of Lowtown.

"What choice  _ you _ have, you mean." Carver snorted, "Lest you forget, I actually  _ have _ a job."

"And yet you piss all of your money away on booze and whores." Roslyn mumbled under her breath, looking forward again. Thankfully, Carver didn't hear it in the hustle and bustle of the market. "While I'm  _ sure _ your fantastic job with the Red Irons is  _ so secure _ ," She continued, loud enough for him to hear, "It's not enough to support the whole family." She paused, "... _ Especially _ since our  _ dear _ Uncle Gamlen keeps betting it all in Diamond Back and Wallop matches."

Carver groaned and slumped down. "Ugh, don't remind me," He grumbled, running his hands down his face. "As if mother isn't strained enough."

"No one will hire Fereldens these days," Roslyn sighed, stopping in front of the iconic Hanged Man pub. She wrinkled her nose, already smelling the horsepiss they called ale. "So getting into this expedition is our best - and really  _ only _ \- bet."

"You could've stayed on, too," Carver offered, folding his arms and looking skeptically down at her. "Meeran said you're one the best he's hired, and would've paid a fortune to keep you."

Roslyn slowly turned to look up at her towering brother, arching a slender brow up. "...Carver, my dear little brother, do you remember who you're talking to?" She held her arms out to the sides. "I'm not  _ exactly _ mercenary material."

He shrugged. "You're good at hiding, you're direct and you're pretty good with a staff." He paused, then added in a low voice, “And you're damn good at killing people.”

"That doesn't  _ make _ a mercenary." Roslyn noted, putting her hands on her hips. "You  _ know _ why I'm not good at it." She gave Carver a pointed look, his lips pursing together. "Besides, I don't like doing questionable things for a slippery bastard that  _ constantly _ stares at my breasts."

"He...he didn't  _ always _ \--"

"Not the point, Carver." Roslyn muttered, "I only did it to get us into the city. Between being a mercenary and a smuggler, I went with the lesser of two evils. But now that we're here..." Giving a sigh, she shook her head, "It's difficult finding another job. So this right here--" She made a broad gesture towards the pub, "--Is our -  _ my _ \- only real option." Pausing, the redhead smirked. " _ And _ it's far less shady then shanking people in a dark ally."

"We never--" Carver stopped and gave a disgruntled grumble under his breath, rubbing his temples. He knew this wasn't an argument he wasn't going to win. "Alright, fine. You have a point there, Roz. Let's just go in." He gestured towards the door and approached it, shoving it open. "And here's hoping that dwarf isn't blowing smoke out of his ass."

"Maker!" Roslyn exclaimed dramatically, "You really  _ are _ spending too much time with Meeran!"

"I warned you, didn't I?" Her brother cracked a rare smirk and voiced an even rarer chuckle, proceeding into the tavern.

Maker's breath, she  _ hated _ coming here.

Roslyn Hawke was never a fan of the bar life, even smaller taverns like the one back in Lothering. But  _ especially _ this one. It reeked of cheap ale and stale vomit, and the food never was all that pleasant-smelling, either. Probably would give her some kind of a  _ disease  _ if she ate it, to be quite honest.

It was incredibly loud and crowded, with a band playing just loud enough for most people to have to shout. People were singing along or drunkenly talking, all battling for dominance over who would be the loudest.  _ Why _ Carver insisted this was the best bar in Kirkwall was beyond her - but it was probably the only bar he could afford.

Plus it was just as easy to get drunk on cheap spirits as expensive ones.  _ Usually _ .

Sticking close to her brutish brother, the pair of Hawkes made their way to the bar, weaving through the drunkards and tavern wenches. After all, just knocking on random doors to  _ all _ of the rooms upstairs would be a bit...silly. And invasive. That, and Roslyn didn't really want to know what was going on behind them. Sure, it was no Blooming Rose, but there  _ were _ a few prostitutes that loitered about.

"H-hey, gwargus!" A clearly drunk man slurred, leaning towards Roslyn from the table he sat at. "S'how aboot's ya 'n me hash a guud twime?"

Ugh,  _ another _ reason she hated taverns. Men trying to pick up on her while drunk off of their asses.

"Caver, a little assistance?" Roslyn called out, her tall brother sliding in beside her and glowering down at the drunk man with his brown eyes. For all of his faults, temper and their constant bickering, Carver was insanely protective of his family. Especially of creepy men hitting on either of his sisters - well, sis _ ter _ . Damn. Roslyn was  _ still _ having issues dealing with the fact that Bethany was gone.

Musings for another time, though.

With the large ginger looming defensively in front of him, the drunk man quickly slinked away. Roslyn flashed Carver a thankful smile, the duo approaching the bartender at the counter.

"So, the usual, Carver?" The barkeep asked, causing Carver to shift uncomfortably from one foot to another - no doubt because his older sister was standing  _ right there. _ "An' who's your lovely friend? She looks too pretty to be your usual--"

" _ Andraste's ass _ , man!!" Carver cut the bartender off, his face turning a deep shade of scarlet. "This is my  _ sister _ , Roslyn!!"

"Well, it's nice to know I'm more pretty then you're...'usual.'" Roslyn said sarcastically, though she couldn't help but to feel as uncomfortable about the situation as Carver was. She was just better at hiding it, of course.

The barkeep was also flushed with embarrassment. "A-ah, sorry, I...erm, had  _ no idea _ that your sister is  _ the _ Rose Hawk. Sorry, Messere!" He muttered an apology, giving a short bow. "I usually only see Carver in here with--"

"Not to change the subject!" It was Roslyn's turn to cut the bartender off, not wanting to further this awkward discussion. "But we're actually here to see someone."

The bartender raised his brows. "Half of bloody Lowtown is here. How do you expect  _ me _ to be able to help you?"

Roslyn sighed and rubbed her temples. "Because we're not looking for the  _ standard _ bar-crawling fair - we're looking for a dwarf." She placed her hands on the bar, leaning against it. "His name is Varric Tethras."

"Varric?" The barkeep asked, blinking and tilting his head. "Erm, are you here about the book...?"

Both Hawkes exchanged glances. "Book? What book?" Roslyn asked in a quizzing voice, turning back to the man behind the bar.

"'Hard in Hightown!'" The bartender exclaimed, taken aback that  _ neither _ of the Hawke siblings had heard of it. "It's his famous serial! It's all about this one city guard, living on the edge of the law and--"

Roslyn held up a hand to stop him from continuing. "While that sounds all well and good, we're not here about it. We're just here to  _ talk _ to him." She informed, " _ Not _ to get a book signed."

The bartender's face - and excitement - dropped. "Ah...alright, suit yourself." He sighed and shrugged, then straightened up. "Varric  _ should _ be up in his suite. It's the first door on the right, at the top of the stairs." He gestured towards the secluded staircase at the end of the hall. Only a few patrons were loitering around.

Sighing, glad to  _ finally _ have made some progress, Roslyn gave a short nod at him. "Thanks, mate." She gave an awkward grin and turned on her heel, heading towards the staircase, Carver at her heels.

"So the dwarf apparently writes about dirty guards," He muttered sarcastically, "And lives in an actual  _ bar _ . Yes, he sounds  _ completely _ trustworthy, huh?"

Roslyn chuckled. "Well, with a brother like Bartrand...can you honestly blame him for opting to live here?"

"Point." Carver conceded, the pair heading up the flight of stairs. "I still think that this is a bad idea, Roz."

"Then why don't you get yourself a pint of that piss you call ale, and I'll deal with this?" Roslyn offered with a sly grin, "After all, you're just  _ so secure _ in your job--"

"Maker's breath, would you shut up about that?" Carver groaned, throwing his arms in the air. "I'm here, so I might as well see it through!"

"Then stop complaining," Roslyn shrugged, "Before I stuff a sock in your mouth."

"But you're not wearing any--"

"I didn't say  _ mine _ ." She cocked a sinister grin at him.

"Andraste's flaming knickers, you're  _ insufferable _ ." Carver muttered in an angry aside, scoffing towards the wall opposite of them.

"Not as much as  _ you _ are." She teased. He grumbled again in response, but she chose to ignore this.

They reached the top of the steps, where various rooms and suites rested. Mostly rentals, but apparently Varric actually lived in one. Couldn't be cheap. At the top, just slightly to the right was a large, oaken door with intricate patterns carved into it, making it look more dwarven then anything else. It was slightly ajar, a dull light flickering from the opposite end. Normally, that was basically an open invitation in a pub, but Roslyn wanted to tread carefully. Especially since she knew nothing about this dwarf, what he actually wanted nor what to expect.

So, she knocked.

"Door's open." Came Varric's gruff voice, rumbling over the noise of the pub below. Giving a shrug towards Carver, Roslyn opened the door all of the way and stepped inside.

It was...surprisingly nice. Well, not "nice" nice, but in much better appearance and maintenance then the pisshole below. The heavy wood of the walls muffled a good deal of the noise pollution, and some of the unpleasant scents. The suite had a large common area, with an impressive table and chairs set up, with a large, roaring fire in the beautifully carved hearth. Some sconces lit the dark corners as well.

It was pretty clear a dwarf lived there, though. The table was lower to the ground, as were a good deal of the chairs. Most of the outer-most ones were a bit taller - for fans of his serial, no doubt. Off to the side was a darker room, probably the sleeping area, and another side sitting room with bookshelves. Several dwarven designs populated the suite, ranging from a few statutes to the carvings on the table's surface.

Across from the door, at the head of the table, sat Varric himself. He had a candelabra at his left, and several sheets of paper were scattered around before him. He was scribbling away when the Hawke siblings entered, lifting his head up when he heard them approach.

He grinned and set his quill back into the inkwell. "And here I thought I'd need to wait at  _ least _ a few days before seeing you again." Roslyn was pretty sure he had to swallow glass shards to get the roughness of his voice, but didn't comment on it. He gestured for the two to proceed further into the suite.

"What can I say?" Roslyn cracked a grin, "I hate to disappoint!" She chuckled, approaching Varric. The dwarf made a gesture with his head towards the door, Carver sighing and swinging it closed, leaning against it and crossing his arms.

"I'm starting to get that impression," Varric chuckled, gathering up his papers and tapping them together. "Can I order either of you a drink? On me, of course."

Carver looked eager to take Varric up on his offer, but Roslyn beat him to the punch. "Unless they actually carry fine Antivan brandy, we'll pass." She snarked. Carver, once again, was going to protest, and once again was headed off. "We're here to talk  _ business _ , after all. Might as well be  _ sober _ for a change." This phrase was more directed to Carver than Varric, the dwarf picking up on it and giving a chuckle.

"Suit yourself, Hawke." The merchant snickered, strumming his fingers together. "So, if you're so focused on business, then let's get down to it!" He leaned forward in his chair. "Now, you want in on this expedition, right?" Roslyn nodded her head at this statement. "Here's the thing: we don't need another hireling for this. What we need is a  _ partner. _ "

She raised a brow up. "A partner? How so?"

"This expedition is a  _ significant _ investment," Varric explained coolly, "And Bartrend is tearing his bread out trying to fund it. Granted, it'll be well with the investment, but getting the coin together to do it? A  _ bit _ more tricky to do."

"I...don't like where this is going..." Carver noted with a groan.

"So, here's the deal: if you guys chip in, you could become our partners, get in on the expedition, and share the wealth!" Varric enthused, holding his hands out as a wide, open gesture.

Roslyn took a moment to let this sink in. "Of course, there's a catch," She noted skeptically, her brow quirking up again. "How much are we talking about?"

Varric leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm....the way I figure it, 50 Sovereigns should do it. Bartrand can't say no to that."

Roslyn felt her face fall off.

That...was a  _ lot _ of coin. Roslyn could barely even remember a time when she had  _ any _ gold on her. The Hawke family was never wealthy at all, and even all of the life savings her father had left behind didn't amount to that. And since fleeing to Kirkwall...money was even tighter. Hell, she barely had more than  _ ten Silvers _ on her, and practically nothing stashed at home.

Flames, how was she going to raise  _ that  _ much money? And would it even be  _ worth _ it?

"And we're leaving!" Carver shouted hastily, turning on his heel and reaching for the doorknob.

"Now, now! Hear me out before you turn your tail!" Varric encouraged, raising his voice loud enough for Carver to hear. The tall young man hissed a string of obscenities and, rather reluctantly, turned back around. "I meant 50  _ total _ . That's 25 Sovereigns per sibling! More reasonable that way, right?"

Carver gave a sharp, pointed look at his sister. "I  _ told you _ this was a bad idea!" He huffed.

Roslyn sighed. "I hate to admit it, but I'm inclined to agree." She informed Varric regretfully. "If I  _ had _ that kind of coin just laying about, I wouldn't still need to stay in what my uncle calls a 'house.'" She paused briefly, "So, unless you know  _ how _ I can find that much gold, there's no way I can afford it." '

Varric, instead of accepting defeat, grinned a wide, devilish smile. "You just haven't been looking in the right places, Hawke." He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table and folding his gloved fingers together. "Kirwall is brimming with work - you just gotta know where to find them."

"And you would?" Roslyn asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Rosie, I didn't get where I am today without knowing the inner workings of Kirkwall," Varric assured with a chuckle, still grinning mischievously. "There's all kinds of work to be found - lots of it high-paying. You stick with me, and I can drum up some odd jobs for you."

Roslyn blinked. Considering Varric didn't know either of them, he sure was placing a lot of faith in her and her brother. It seemed...odd. Sure, she had a bit of a reputation by now, but that wasn't really enough, was it? But he did just admit - more-or-less - to knowing about the workings of the city-state. Even if they didn't get in on the expedition, the dwarven merchant might be able to at  _ least _ get her a job.

She looked back at her brother for his opinion. Carver shifted awkwardly from one foot to another, chewing on his lower lip, though his arms remained crossed.

"I don't know, Roz." Carver admitted when their eyes met. He didn't need to say anymore about what he was nervous about - after all, he had been quite vocal the  _ whole way _ to the pub. "It's your call, since it concerns you more then me."

Giving a slow nod, Roslyn turned back to Varric, who had lowered his chin to rest on his knuckles. He looked at her expectantly, but didn't say anything. She took a deep breath.

"Before we agree to anything, I do have one question."

Varric's brows raised. "Oh?"

"Why such an interest in us?" Roslyn inquired, shrugging her shoulders, "Why trust a bunch of Lowtown  _ nobodies _ with something  _ this _ big and important?"

Varric chuckled and lowered his hands. "On the contrary,  _ Rose Hawk _ , you're  _ not _ just some 'Lowtown nobody.'" He even raised his ands to do the air quotes, before reclining back into his chair. "In the past year, you've made quite a name for yourself! You're clean and efficient, and  _ always _ get the job done." The dwarf leaned forward again, resting a hand on the table. "You're deadly and beautiful, but more importantly - you're frugal with money...unlike  _ some _ ." Varric shot a pointed glance over at Carver, who looked confused by the comment. Varric sighed and returned his attention back to Roslyn. "If there's  _ anyone _ in Kirkwall - Lowtown or otherwise - that is perfect for this job, it's you, Messere Rose."

"Well, when you put it  _ that _ way..." Roslyn mused, giving a small chuckle. She knew she had gained some notoriety in the Red Irons, but had no idea she was  _ that  _ well known. Oh, she  _ knew _ Varric was buttering her up, but if what he said was true...

"What about me?" Carver asked, crossing his arms again, "You made no mention of me, dwarf."

Roslyn saw Varric resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Junior, what I've heard of you comes out of your own mouth, and it's  _ usually _ a drunken slur." She bit down on the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from laughing at her brother's expense. The fact that Varric said it with the straightest face and the most amazing deadpan she'd ever heard  _ didn't help _ , either. "But of course, you're  _ welcome _ to come along."

"Andraste's  _ tits _ , I can't believe you're considering this!" Carver shouted, throwing his arms in the air and clenching his jaw, trying to keep himself from exploding.

"You know, you don't  _ have _ to do this with me, Carver." Roslyn teased, flashing her brother an apologetic grin. He groaned and ran his hand through his short hair.

"Shit, I can't believe I'm going to be doing this..." He grumbled and rubbed his temples. "If you're doing this, Roz, then by the  _ Void _ itself, I'll be there too." Roslyn smiled at him. As much as she teased him and as insufferable as he could be, Carver was dependable - well, when he wasn't  _ drunk _ \- and, frankly, she didn't want it any other way.

"So then...I take it we have a deal?" Varric asked expectantly, hopping off of his chair and walking over to the older Hawke sibling. He extended his hand out towards her.

Roslyn grinned and took it. "I'll be more then happy to join you...partner."

\-----

"It's such a  _ lovely _ day out, isn't it?"

True to his word, Varric had spent the last three weeks drumming up work for the Hawke siblings. It ranged from simple "fetch quests," right up to bounties and missing persons. Certainly more then what she had dealt with in the past two months. Coupled with the assistance she gave Aveline earlier this week, Roslyn had managed to gather a little over two Sovereigns.

"Yes, it's such a lovely day to go bounty hunting!" The red-haired Hawke replied sarcastically, looking over at Merrill.

The Dalish elf had met Roslyn nearly two months ago, when she went to Sundermount to deal with Flemeth's unusual..."favor." Turned out the Witch of the Wilds had put a piece of herself into the amulet and was now probably reigning terror in some village or something. Hopefully not  _ too  _ badly, at any rate. Along the way, Merrill had helped out and joined Roslyn, and currently resided in Kirkwall's Alienage. Which was still nicer then Gamlen's "house," of course.

And Roslyn was already taking a shine to the elf.

Merrill was so sweet and charming, if not a little awkward and naive. Plus, as a former First to the Dalish Keeper, Merrill was skilled in a unique magic, unlike what Roslyn had ever seen. But, Merrill was a little stupid too - as demonstrated by her use of blood magic from time-to-time. Roslyn was sure to check up on the girl frequently, to ensure she didn't do anything  _ completely _ idiotic. Or accidentally sunder the Veil. Or summon a hoard of demons, or-- well, one got the idea.

"Well, at least it will be pleasant if we run into raiders," Merrill added with a warm smile. "The sun is nice and warm, and there's a gentle breeze over the Waking Sea!"

Roslyn couldn't help but to chuckle. "Oh, Merrill."

The elf blinked. "What?" She tilted her head to the side. "Did I say something stupid...?"

"No, not at all!" Roslyn laughed, patting the smaller mage on the shoulder. "You're just being your sweet, adorable self."

Merrill flushed at the comment, tucking her narrow chin into her scarf. "Th-there you go again, exaggerating a-about me..." She mumbled into the fabric.

"I'm inclined to agree!" Varric interjected with a coy grin, "It's hard  _ not _ to like you, Daisy." Merrill flushed deeper and mumbled something in Elvish, fumbling with the edge of her tunic. Roslyn grinned down at Varric, the dwarf shrugging in response.

Both Aveline and Carver had obligations that day - through Roslyn wasn't sure if Carver's came at the bottom of a mug - so it was just the three of them. A Dalish elven mage, a dwarf marksman and...well, her. She just hoped that they wouldn't run into too much trouble on this particular job, what with the lack of _ both _ sets of muscle.

She sighed and scratched her head, squinting into the afternoon sun. "This had better be worth it," She sighed melodramatically. "We've been out here for  _ hours _ , and I'm not sure how much more sun my skin can take!" Roslyn wrinkled her nose at her exposed upper arms, which were turning quite red with sunburn. Damn her fair skin!

"We're rescuing the Viscount's son," Varric reminded, "And the Seneschal promised a  _ heavy _ reward. Probably a handful of Sovereigns!" He grinned up at Hawke, who gave another melodramatic groan.

"You know, I could try that recipe again, Hawke!" Merrill offered, smiling over at the other woman.

Roslyn laughed nervously. "That's a...generous offer, Merrill," She pattered her on the shoulder. "But the  _ last _ time you tried making that...weird, Dalish skin-protection stuff, I broke into hives, and had a rash for a week!"

"O-oh, right, b-but I'm  _ sure _ I could do it correctly this time!" Once again, Merrill flushed, but looked at Hawke directly in the eyes this time.

"Test it on someone else first," Roslyn managed to say, as she didn't want to hurt Merrill's feelings. The Dalish nodded her head in response. She was about to say something else, but Varric stopped walking abruptly.

"I think we're on to something, Rosie." He informed, gesturing down the way to a small peninsula.

Roslyn squinted into the sun, shielding her eyes from it with her hand. There was a small camp set up on the peninsula, and a few figures were there - most of them looked like raiders, to be honest.  _ Wonderful _ .

In the center stood a well-dressed young man, who could only be Saemus Dumar, the Viscount's son. Who else would be traipsing about the Wounded Coast dressed like that? A tall, brutish, grey-skinned man stood before him, a Qunari from the looks of it. The horns  _ kind of _ gave that fact away. Come to think of it...that prude, Seneschal Bran had mentioned something about the Qunari...but this one was being defensive, protective. Not attacking him. Saemus didn't want to go with the raiders, either, meaning he might  _ not  _ be a captive after all.

The mercenaries - Roslyn recalled the Winters being mentioned - all ganged up and attacked the Qunari.

"Oh, that's...not good..." Varric muttered, his eyes going wide.

Roslyn quickly upholstered her staff from her back. "Let's get down there!" She shouted, dashing down the path. If these  _ were _ the Winters, they had a horrific history of brutality and violence. Hell, the Red Irons were practically  _ kittens _ next to those freaks! Qunari or not, no one deserved to get butchered like that.

By the time Hawke and her companions made it down there, the deed was done. All that remained of the Qunari was a bloody, mangled corpse; limbs rendered from his torso, guts spilling out, and just generally being bashed all over the place in a giant, bloody heap. It wasn't pretty. The leader of the Winters was shouting at Saemus, forcing him down to the ground, as he  _ clearly _ didn't want to go with them. Normally, Roslyn would try to get some witty quips in there, or try to talk some sense into these mercenaries, but not this time.

She flung her staff out in a rapid spiral, where it got tangled up in the legs of one of the raiders. He vaulted forward and collapsed upon another member of the group, causing a minor panic to happen. Varric quickly threw out a smoke bomb towards the group, causing even more confusion.

"What in the--" The leader started to ask, but never got to finish her sentence. Merrill summoned a massive earthquake under the smoke bomb, spikes of ground spearing up and cutting through the mercenaries.

When the smoke cleared, the Winters were either wounded or dead. Hawke casually retrieved her staff, twisting it into her hand in an defensive posture, slowly approaching the leader.

"Who the  _ hell _ do you think you are?!" The woman roared, "You're too late for the bounty! The Winters -  _ I _ \- have already claimed him!"

"I will  _ not _ go with you!" The Viscount's son retorted, "You murdered Ashaad! I won't see you rewarded for it!"

So she was right. Saemus wasn't kidnapped - he was here willingly. And from the sounds of it, the Qunari was a...friend, perhaps?

"Spoiled shit!" The mercenary leader bellowed, drawing her daggers and pointing them towards him, "I'll cut out your tongue and charge  _ extra _ for bringing you in silent!" She swung her dagger at the young man, but he wasn't moving fast enough to avoid it. Thankfully, Roslyn swooped in and caught the daggers on the leader-bound portion of her staff.

"Such poor manors! Treating the Viscount's son like this!" She tsked, shoving the madwoman's blades off of her staff. Swinging it around, Roslyn hit her on the back of the head with the mace end, knocking her to the side. "You should  _ really _ try to be nicer!" The leader collapsed to the ground, rendered unconscious by the blunt force. Sighing, Roslyn turned and placed the butt of her stave into the soil, extending her hand town towards the startled Saemus. "Are you alright?"

The young man took her hand. "I'm quite fine," He assured, Roslyn hoisting him back to his feet. "Thank you for stopping her. She's a brute and a thug - not deserving of whatever reward my father has surely promised."

"Yeah, that's the Winters for you," Varric shook his head grimly. "They'd kill their own _ mothers _ for the clink of coin."

"That doesn't sound very nice at all!" Merrill exclaimed, her eyes widening in disgust.

"That was the point, Mer--"

"Serah, look out!" Roslyn turned at Saemus' cry, seeing the leader of the Winters rising up again, blades drawn. Hawke went to swing her staff around, but was moving too slow. Even with her off-hand raised, she'd be cut with the weapons, possibly through her leather gauntlets.  _ This _ is why she missed having Aveline or Carver around, so they could deal with crap like this!

There was a clink in the distance, and before she knew it, the Winters leader was knocked off of her feet. A crossbow bolt was buried in her throat, and she began to croak and struggle while she bled out. Roslyn looked over to Varric, who folded the crossbow up and rested it against his shoulder. She smirked at him.

"Nice shot, Varric."

"Thank Bianca for that one," The dwarf cocked a smirk, stroking the crossbow affectionately. "She got real twitchy all of the sudden. Always happens when something like  _ that _ is going on."

"I wish that were the end of it, Serah." Saemus added in a low voice, "But that woman said she was expecting more of her men - a  _ lot  _ more."

Roslyn sighed dramatically, resting her stave against her shoulder. "It's never  _ easy _ , is it?"

"Not when you're around, Rosie." Varric chided.

"How many more do you think?" Roslyn looked back at Saemus.

"She said she was waiting for her entire squad," He informed nervously, Roslyn looking over to Varric for a rough estimate on numbers.

The Merchant Prince stroked his chin thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Hmm...with the Winters, it could range from a few dozen to over fifty."

" _ Wonderful. _ " Hawke commented dryly, giving a pop of her neck.

"What should we do?" Merrill asked nervously, turning to Roslyn. "I know you've fought off a  _ lot _ of cross men before...but it's usually with your brother or Aveline to help. A-and have you  _ seen _ how she hits people?"

"Relax, Merrill. I have a plan," She assured, gesturing to the small spit of land that lead up to the peninsula. "We have the advantage of seeing their approach. Plus, if we funnel them down, it'll be like shooting fish in a barrel."

Merrill blinked. "Why would you shoot fish in a barrel?"

"I'll...explain later, Daisy." Varric assured, patting the Dalish on the leg. "I take it you want me sniping, Rosie?" Roslyn nodded her head, the dwarf quickly spotting a nice cliff that would do well. "Alright, let's go knock some heads!" He chirped all-too-enthusiastically, wandering over and setting up Bianca.

"Merrill, you go place some paralysis glyphs there and...there." Roslyn pointed the locations out, "And once those idiots are all down the path, I want you to put a repulsion glyph at the entrance, about there." She gestured to the location, Merrill nodding her head. "Once they've all made it down, I'll signal you and in the center of this area, I want you to summon a tempest."

“Won't...that hurt them, keep them from escaping?” Merrill asked worriedly, furrowing her little brows up at Hawke.

Roslyn sighed. “It's kill or be killed with the Winters, Merrill. We have to trap them or they'll come after us, even as we leave.” She gestured towards the choke point again, “This will prevent them from coming up behind us with Saemus in tow. The tempest will knock a lot of them down at once.” She placed a hand on Merrill's shoulder. “Do you understand?”

Merrill thought for a moment, then nodded her head. "Remind me to never make you cross." Roslyn smirked at her.

"Atta girl. Less thinking now, and more  _ planting of glyphs _ , Merrill." She reminded playfully. Merrill flushed and nodded her head, hurrying around and placing them at the desired locations. "And once you summon the tempest," Roslyn called out, "I want you  _ and _ Varric to take cover."

"Hawke, we've got movement down the way!" Varric informed, "There's at  _ least _ forty of them!"

Merrill looked worriedly over at Roslyn, who was focused on the approaching enemies. She gave the elf a confident nod of her head, Merrill scurrying over and standing at the ready.

"We can do this, Merrill." Roslyn assured, gripping her staff tightly. "Forty mercenaries against two women and a dwarf? Child's play!" She gave a confident laugh, Merrill swallowing hard and nodding her head slowly. Roslyn held her hand out, waiting for the last mercenary to pass the threshold. Once she was confident they were far enough in, she gestured with her hand, Merrill placing the glyph to prevent their escape.

Carefully, Hawke judged their movements. Once in range, Varric began to pick a few off with his precious Bianca. Those mercenaries armed with bows began to try to find his perch, but he was well hidden from them, continuing to take pot shots.

_ 'Remember, Roz: Never let your emotions control you. _ ' Roslyn heard her father's voice remind her, ' _ Become like the stream. Allow your magic to flow through you effortlessly. Manipulate and twist the Veil, but don't breach it.  _ _ Understand _ _ the Fade, and show no fear. _ '

"Show no fear." Roslyn repeated quietly, focusing on the nearing raiders.

In public, she  _ never _ used her magic. The only time she did was in ways the mundane wouldn't ever notice. Increasing her strength and speed, lacing magical force behind her attacks, knocking them aside while hitting them with her staff. Even during the night, Hawke was hesitant to use it, because she never knew  _ who _ was watching. But now, they were in the middle of nowhere, with the only witness - besides her companions – was currently cowering behind a rock.

According to her plan, several mercenaries hit the traps to the sides, being paralyzed by the runes there. Varric made short work of them, his bolts flying true and hitting their marks. Then, with the main group nearing the center of the peninsula, Roslyn placed another glyph at their feet, ensnaring a large group of them.

Merrill took this as her cue, tightening her grip on her own staff. Lightning surged around the Dalish's arms, the skies darkening and crackling, thunder roaring overhead. Snapping her arms up, Merrill sent the lightning into the skies, which immediately parted. Bolts of lightning tore through and began to strike down on the witless raiders, tearing through the earth and ground. Some of them began to back up, realizing they were dealing with a mage.

Little did they know.

"No fear." Hawke reminded herself, commanding her blood to turn cold, the air surrounding her becoming chilled.

Merrill quickly ducked behind some outcropping of rock, Varric following suit and ducking behind his own, hugging Bianca to his chest. Roslyn lowered her hands to her sides, her staff hovering before her as she summoned her font of magic. Frost began to crack it's way up from her palms, tracing up her arms. Slowly, she lifted them up, the air growing increasingly cold about her. Sending the force of her magic up from her body and into the still-raging tempest Merrill had summoned, Roslyn watched as the skies grew silent for a moment. With a shout, she brought her arms down.

A massive ice and snow storm sprung up within the raging thunderstorm, the conflicting magic of Merrill's tempest and Roslyn's blizzard clashing. A massive hurricane of magic and energy whipped up as a result, lashing out and creating a phenomenal hurricane. Hawke quickly ducked behind the same rock Merrill was behind, clinging to it. Even she wasn't  _ entirely _ sure what was going to happen.

Wind, lightning and ice began to shower down from the heaven's. The skies were sundered, the ground surrounding the main area of the peninsula was torn apart by the force of the gale. It was brutal, intense, terrifying...but the mercenaries were getting picked off. And they  _ knew _ they were going to die horrifically if they remained.

Those who were  _ not _ paralyzed were panicking and started to run away from the massive, magical storm, but soon realized they were trapped. The glyph at the main choke point kept on knocking them back into the gale. Some began to clamber up the rocks to get away - not that Roslyn minded too much - but many jumped into the water to try and flee.

Big mistake.

Lightning rained down and would electrocute those in the water, and the few who escaped this fate began to realize the water was...suddenly getting colder. Ice began to form across the surface - hell, even on the rocks and the ground itself - and the wind and lightning whipping around wasn't making anything easier. Many of the remaining mercenaries had taken cover, hoping to ride out the storm.

Thank the Maker they were far enough away from any sort of civilization that no one would notice this storm. Hopefully.

After it raged for a while longer, the wind began to calm down. The skies stopped parting and the air began to warm up. Soon, things grew deathly still as the magic ran out, and it was time to step out and witness the damage.

A good deal of the rocks were pretty torn up or frozen over, and multiple scorch marks had branded themselves across the sand and waste. Some of the water against the shore had become icy, and pretty much all of the vegetation had been blown away. And, most impressively, a lot of the mercenaries had been sent flying and were seen along the cliff-faces quite a ways down.

Not bad, if she had to say so herself.

"Well, that was certainly exciting!" Merrill exclaimed, rising to her feet and looking quite impressed by the damage. Many of the surviving raiders were running away, absolutely terrified of whatever spell the pair of mages could summon  _ next _ time.

"'Exciting' doesn't cover half of it, Daisy." Varric groaned from his perch, sitting upright and grimacing at the toll. The Dalish giggled at the response.

"Well, considering I didn't know what I was doing--"

"Wait, you cast a massive  _ hurricane spell _ without knowing what it would do?" Varric snapped down at Hawke, looking down at her in disbelief.

Roslyn shrugged. "I didn't cast a 'hurricane spell,' Varric, I combined two very different spells together!" She corrected with a coy smirk, wandering over and prodding a mercenary with her staff. "I just wasn't  _ entirely _ sure what would happen."

"Andraste's ass, Rosie, you're going to be the  _ death _ of me one of these days." The Merchant Prince grumbled, rubbing his temples.

" _ You're _ the one who came to  _ me _ , remember?" Roslyn replied, watching Varric slide down from his perch. "And you're also the one who didn't run away screaming when I warned you of my peculiar... _ strategies _ . Involving magic."

"Touché." He chuckled, admitting is defeat and holstering Bianca against his back. "Anyway, I'm  _ pretty sure _ anyone who survived  _ that _ mess high-tailed it out of here."

"Agreed." Roslyn slid her own staff back into it's holster. Giving a small sigh, she turned and walked over to where Saemus was currently cowering in fear of his life. "It's alright now, Saemus."

The young man grimaced and looked up from his rock, which had some frost on it. "Maker, what in the world  _ was _ that?"

Roslyn offered her hand down towards him. "Let's just call it an experiment." She grinned, he taking her hand and she hoisted him up to her feet. "Good news is, it cleared out all of those nasty Winters, and you're unharmed, I hope?"

"I--I'm fine, Serah." Saemus mumbled, staring at her rather sheepishly. Hawke cocked a nervous grin, wondering if he was going to blab that she was probably a mage - and an apostate at that. "I thank you for your efforts. You are...very talented, Serah...?" His voice trailed off, obviously wanting to know the name of his savior.

"Hawke."

"Serah Hawke." Saemus gave a nod, regaining his composure. "I appreciate you standing up for Ashaad, and for killing those murderers. They did not deserve whatever it is my father has offered." Pausing, he leaned closer to her. "And you needn't fear. I will keep you and your friend's unique... _ abilities _ a secret. I am in your debt."

"I appreciate it, Messere." Roslyn gave a polite incline of her head, giving his hand a squeeze before releasing it. Well, that was one issue out of the way! Smiling, she gestured towards the path. "Now, let's get you back to the city. Lest they catch wind of this mysterious, magical hurricane spotted on the Wounded Coast and send a search party!" Saemus gave a small nod, the quartet heading back along the charred and iced path.

Merrill sighed and looked up at the now-cloudy sky. "Ah, and it was such a  _ nice _ day earlier, too."

"Oh, Merrill."

\-----

"...Three...four...and five!" Roz dumped her pouch of coin on the table of the side room of Gamlen's hovel. "Can you honestly believe this? I don't think I've ever even  _ held _ this much coin before!"

"Good thing Gamlen isn't here right now," Carver noted, watching his sister gather the gold coins up and put them into the communal bag they had going on. Although he had his misgivings about the dwarf's 'business venture' before, it was certainly starting to come together. Roslyn had already gathered  _ nearly _ ten Sovereigns in less then a month. Varric certainly knew where to find work for Carver's older sister to partake in, and even found a few odd-jobs for him to do. Hell, he had even signed up for more missions with the Irons to earn a little bit of mad money. And, erm, trying to partake in his sinful pastimes a little less frequently.

Between the two Hawke siblings, they had earned eleven Sovereigns. Still a long way off from fifty, but it was a start.

Roslyn scoffed, stuffing the bag of money under a loose floorboard and shoving the same, old barrel over it. "If he blew our family's  _ entire fortune _ in a few years, Maker only  _ knows _ what he'd do with this." She rolled her eyes and popped up to her feet. Carver grimaced as well.

"Ugh, you're telling me." He scratched his head, "At any rate...sorry I couldn't be there, Roz. You know how much I  _ love _ it when you kick the shit out of unsuspecting mercenaries with magic."

Much to his surprise, Roz didn't pick up on his sarcasm, raising her brows up. "What?" She looked taken aback. Her, the Queen of Sarcasm! Maker, he needed to get better at this. "I thought you  _ hated _ it when I experiment with spells and magic."

"I was joking." Carver grumbled.

This time, she mocked her reaction. "Carver Hawke? Making a  _ joke _ ?" Roslyn placed a hand on her chest, swaying backwards. "Is the Maker returning to us? Is there another Blight? Did the Divine just keel over from the shock of--"

"By the Void, I get it!" Carver snapped, gritting his teeth behind his lips. Damn, as much as he cared about his big sister, she was so  _ insufferable _ sometimes! "See if I make another joke again at this rate." He grumbled, huffing and crossing his arms.

"Keep trying, little brother, and you'll get it." Even though the words were encouraging, Caver felt like there was some kind of back-handed remark buried in there. Sometimes, she took after their father  _ far _ too much. He grunted and rolled his eyes, wondering what else to say about the situation, but words escaped him.

Thankfully, he didn't need to say anything when a knock came at the door.

The pair of red-haired Hawke siblings exchanged looks. They very rarely got visitors, usually just messengers really. Any of Gamlen's, err..."acquaintances" would usually just let themselves in. Even so, their uncle wasn't even around right now, probably out gambling somewhere. Their mother had left to go shopping, but would also let herself in as well.

Probably a messenger, then.

Roslyn sighed and headed towards the main room, towards the front door. Caver poked his head into the doorframe, watching as she greeted someone on the other side. Moments later, the door was closed and she had a letter in her hand, breaking the seal and unfolding the piece of parchment.

"Well, what is it?" Carver asked, sliding into the front room.

"I  _ just _ opened it, Carver," She commented with a roll of her eyes, returning them to focus on the letter. After scanning it for a few moments, she looked up meet his gaze.

"And?"

"Looks like we got another job."


	2. Spirits and Lyrium

"So, what can you tell me about this 'Anso' guy?"

Varric sat with Hawke in his suite, having read over the letter she received from a mysterious messenger the other day. He raised a brow at the question and at the piece of parchment in his hands, slowly looking up to meet her blue-green eyes.

"Well, all I know is he's fairly new to the surface," Varric explained, tapping his fingers together, "And I believe he's working for the Carta."

"Oh, is that  _ all? _ " The sarcasm was strong with her today. "Wonderful."

Truth be told, Varric was a little leery of the note. The fact that this newbie to the Carta was sending a message to a human mercenary? Well,  _ ex _ -mercenary, if you want to be specific, but that was beside the point. If something got botched or stolen from this guy, he either needed to get it himself or contact someone he  _ knew _ and  _ trusted _ to get it back. Not reach out to someone like Hawke. The less people involved, the better,  _ especially _ when the Carta was concerned.

"I wish I knew more, Rosie, but I don't know much about him." Varric gave a small shrug, "But, I won't lie to you: I'm a little suspicious of this whole thing."

"As am I," Hawke noted, crossing her arms and shaking her head. "Still, he's offering a nice reward, and we need the money right now." Leaning forward, she placed her hand on her table, "Can you work your dwarven magic and see what you can find on this guy? I don't want to go into this blind."

Varric chuckled, holding his hands to the side. "Rosie! I'm  _ offended! _ Who do you think you're talking to?"

Roslyn smirked and leaned back, cocking her hip out. "Ah, you must forgive me for doubting you, O Indomitable Varric Tethras!" She gave a flourish of a bow, causing the dwarf to laugh shortly at her comment. Maker, he was glad she turned out to be a fellow sass-master. Gave him someone interesting to talk to!

Stifling his laugh, he waved the letter in the air. "I'll have my contacts look into this, see what's up. Hopefully something will turn up." Varric's grin faded and he placed it on the table, leaning towards her. "Anyway, before you go skipping off into the dirty streets, there's something else we should discuss."

Likewise, Hawke's grin faded and she gave a nod. "What is it?"

"Well, we're going to need to find a good entrance into the Deeps," Varric continued, "Downside is, neither myself or Bartrend know of any. We have to find someplace that'll take us to where we want to go, and one that isn't littered with Darkspawn."

"Really?" Hawke raised a skeptical brow, "I thought they finally disbursed from Ferelden not long ago. Isn't that a sign that they'd be more...open?"

"Not necessarily," Varric sighed, shaking his head, "It might make things  _ harder _ for us, what with them retreating now...which is why we need that entrance." Grinning, he gave a twirl of his index finger. "Thankfully, I  _ may _ have found a solution for us."

Roslyn grinned. " _ Now _ we're getting somewhere."

Varric gave a nod of his head, smirking, "I recently found out there's a former Grey Warden here in the city. Fresh off of the boat from Ferelden, disguised as a refugee."

Those slender, dark red brows of hers rose. "A Warden? In disguise?" She muttered, "That's hardly  _ normal _ , eh?" Frankly, Varric agreed, but that didn't matter if they got the information they needed.

"Who knows  _ what _ his story is," The Merchant Prince commented with a shrug. "All that matters is, this guy  _ should _ know how to help us, what with being a master of Darkspawn and the Deep Roads and all."

"And...you want me to go find him?"

"Bingo," Varric grinned, reclining in his chair and folding his fingers together. "Look, I've got some things to do here, and find out about this Anso character, plus I'm pretty sure you're up to the  _ challenge _ of finding a Warden who doesn't want to be found, Rosie."

She smirked, putting her hands on her hips. "Your confidence in me is so very  _ heartwarming, _ Varric."

"Of course, Messere Rose!" Varric chuckled, inclining his head. "Only the  _ best _ for the  _ very _ best." The pair had a small chuckle at this, he shaking his head and continuing. "Anyway, since he's hiding out with refugees, I'd check in with Lirene in the bazaar. She's been collecting funds for the Ferelden refugees, so she might have some info on our illusive Warden friend." Pausing very briefly, he continued before she could interject, "Oh, and maybe  _ just _ take your brother on this one. I think having some Fereldens inquiring about other Ferledens  _ might _ make things a bit easier."

"You really have this all sorted out, don't you?" Hawke's smirk grew, tilting her head down at the dwarf.

Varric chuckled at this.

"Do you expect anything less of me, Rosie?"

\-----

Well, this was certainly a  _ lot _ more involved then she expected.

What was, originally, a simple quest to find a Grey Warden - who didn't seem to want to be found - turned into visiting the Chantry at night, under mysterious circumstances.

Sure, finding the Warden - who was named Anders - was simple enough, once Roslyn and Carver appealed to Lirene's better senses. Between her and several other refugees, they managed to track him down to a free clinic in the very underbelly of Kirkwall - Darktown. Maker, she  _ hated _ the place, but it was for a good cause, right? Well, turned out Anders is a mage, and a healer at that, who wanted to help a friend escape from the Circle in the Gallows.

It rubbed Roslyn the wrong way.

She hated the idea of crossing Templars, especially considering she had been an apostate all of her life. Plus, meeting him at the sacred Chantry? Defying it's laws? Yeah, it seemed very sketchy, but she had no choice. Anders wouldn't part with his Deep Roads maps, nor give them any assistance or offer anything unless she agreed. And they needed them.

Plus, something  _ about _ him seemed...off.

Misgivings for another time, however.

With them entering the Chantry, Roslyn felt increasingly uncomfortable. "Once we find Karl, just let me talk to him." Anders said cautiously, his voice low so any lingering sisters and brothers didn't overhear. Roslyn gave a cautious nod, turning back towards Caver and Aveline, the latter she had run across on patrol and decided to drag along.

Neither of them looked comfortable in this situation. Hopefully nothing bad would happen, and they'd be in and out in two shakes.

But, luck was never Hawke's strong suit.

"Karl?"

The quartet had scaled the stairs to the second level of the Chantry, coming to a small sitting area. Across from where they stood was a singular man, with graying hair and wearing obvious mage robes. Roslyn crinkled her nose. If someone was  _ really _ trying to escape the Circle, wouldn't they wear something a little less...conspicuous? Like her leather armor and linen pants.

"Anders. I know you too well," The graying man stated, his voice devoid of all emotion, "I knew you would never give up. On your goals, on me." Chills ran down Roslyn's spine, her eyes going wide when she heard his voice.

He sounded like a...

"Karl? What's wrong?! Why do you sound like a--" Karl turned around, a sun symbol branded upon his forehead. Hawke couldn't contain the gasp that left her throat, taking a shaken step back.

A Tranquil.

It was a fate worse than death for any mage. To have their thoughts, their feelings, their very  _ soul _ stripped from them - it was horrific to even think of it. Roslyn had never seen a Tranquil up close before, not like this, though she had heard about them from her father and a few other mages in the Gallows.

But wasn't turning a harrowed mage into a Tranquil against Chantry policy...?

"Oh, Maker..." Anders managed to choke out, his arms visibly shaking from the revelation.

"I was too resistant, like you," Karl continued in his monotonous, emotionless drawl, "So the Templars helped make me see. You'll understand, once they show you how to control yourself, Anders."

Something tingled in the back of her senses. Hawke knew that sensation anywhere - Lyrium. Her hand instantly rested against the leather of her staff, curling around it and withdrawing it when she turned around, spotting a large gaggle of Templars approaching.

"It's  _ never _ easy..." She mumbled. She really needed to stop jinxing herself.

"The things I do for you, Hawke." Aveline gave a disgruntled sigh, pulling her sword and shield out.

Anders had turned around as well, his skin blanching. "This is the apostate." Karl said in his dull tone, gesturing towards Anders with his hand.

The Templars began to move towards him, their swords at the ready in case he tried to resist. With the buzz of Lyrium in the air, the Templars were employing their magic-dampening powers. Roslyn knew neither herself or Anders could cast any spells, and she wasn't sure how good he was with melee combat. He probably knew  _ enough _ , given that he was a Warden and all. Well, still was, apparently you couldn't ever  _ stop _ that, he just wasn't currently  _ with _ them or whatever.

Not that she'd want to use magic right now any--

Something felt very wrong all of the sudden.

"...No..." Anders whispered, his eyes wide and his body visibly shaking. Roslyn turned her head towards him, feeling something...coming  _ out _ of him. Something that felt like-- " _ NO _ !!" His voice came out in a loud scream, his eyes flashing blue and glowing, blue veins of energy running down his skin. Chaotic blue magic ripped from his body, tearing through the tiled floor and causing the Templars to pause.

"What in the--" Carver managed to get out before he stumbled backwards, grasping onto a pillar for support.

" _ You will never take another mage as you took him! _ " A voice - which was  _ not _ Anders' usually soft, hesitant tone - bellowed. With his hands, he thrust them outwards and released a blast of pure, magical blue energy, knocking the first wave of Templars back.

There was no  _ way _ he should have been able to do that!

"Sweet blood of Andraste!" The leader gasped, staring at one of his wounded Templars. "Kill the abomination!!" He ordered, pointing is sword towards the still-glowing and still-very-wrong-feeling Anders. The Templars rushed forward and towards them, Roslyn casting a glance at her two companions.

"Maker  _ help _ me, Hawke..." Aveline grumbled, rushing forward and smacking one of the Templars with her shield. Carver leaped into the fray as well, slashing through two of the men with his giant sword. Roslyn looked back at Anders - or  _ whatever _ he was now - feeling the Fade bursting from him. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she  _ needed _ those maps, and she wasn't about to let him die and ransack his clinic for them. That would just be  _ rude. _

While Caver and Aveline had things quite covered in the front, Hawke turned her attention towards the back, where there were a few archers, readying their arrows. She couldn't use spells right now - too many Templars using too much Lyrium - but she had other skills to depend upon. Twisting her staff in her hand, she rushed forward and planted it into the ground, using it as a vault for her body. Hoisting herself up, she soared over the front line of Templars and landed behind them, lashing out with her longmace and hitting one of the archer's across the face with a loud, metal  _ clang _ . The mace was enough to dent his helmet and knock him out. Maybe kill him, but she wasn't about to check.

Thankfully, she wasn't alone. Well, not for  _ long _ , at least.

Anders, right out of  _ nowhere _ , appeared beside her and grabbed one of the archer's by the throat, lifting him off of the ground. Judging by how spindly-looking he was, there was no  _ way _ he should've been able to lift a fully-armored Templar up like that, but things to dwell on later. With a growl that Roslyn could  _ only _ describe as being inhuman, Anders chucked the Templar into the main row and clenched his fist, causing him to explode with violent energy.

"Wow." Roslyn was pretty impressed. Whatever the hell was causing the glowing-eyes and the Fade energy to come out was certainly  _ working _ . Any skeptic would assume it was some kind of Warden-based magic, but she knew better. He was--

"Roz!" She heard Carver cry out, turning her head behind her to see one of the Templars with a knife drawn to her back. No time to be thinking!

She began to turn around and raise her the staff of her longmace, but knew she wasn't going to be fast enough to block the blow. Carver and Aveline were both rushing to get there, but neither would arrive in time. Ah, well, at least she knew some healing spells...right?

Thankfully, the Templar didn't make it quite far enough. Anders shot him in the face with a fireball, exploding with enough force to knock Roslyn back, and to singe her eyebrows. The Templar, however, didn't make it out with just a few singed hairs; the smell of melting metal and burning flesh was proof enough of that.

Carver didn't miss a beat, reaching down and grabbing his sister by her arm. "Roz! Are you alright?" He hoisted her up and inspected her face. Thankfully, just her eyebrows and some of her bangs had been burned, nothing too bad.

"A-a little singed, but I'll survive," She grunted, rubbing her sore toosh from where she fell.

"What in the Maker's name  _ is _ that thing?" He muttered, watching as Anders set the remaining Templars ablaze.

"I agree," Aveline muttered, sheathing her sword and shield. "He shouldn't be able to do that with Templars around, right?"

Roslyn shook her head. "No, I think he's...he's an..."  _ Abomination _ . Even the word didn't want to escape from her lips.

And, like that, it faded.

The burning energy from the Fade disappeared from Anders. The glowing eyes and veins returned to normal, and the aura dissipated. His brown eyes looked dazed, almost confused, like he wasn't quite aware what he was doing. But, looking past Anders, Hawke noticed the lifeless expression Karl had completely vanished, and he let out a sharp gasp and stumbled backwards.

Like a flash, Anders whipped around. "Karl!" He gasped, rushing towards his friend, like nothing had happened.

"Anders? I...what...what  _ are _ you...?" Karl whispered breathlessly, his emotions having returned.

"I--"

"That's  _ also _ not possible, is it?" Aveline whispered to Hawke, staring in disbelief at the Tranquil who wasn't so Tranquil right now. The other mage pursed her lips together.

"I'm...not so sure," She admitted to the guard, "I've never heard of it, at least..."

"What did you do, Anders?" Karl continued, stepping forward, his eyes wide. "I-I don't know what you did, but I feel myself returning! It's like the entire  _ Fade _ is inside of you, burning like the sun! I...I-I..." He choked, putting his face in his hands.

Anders swallowed hard. "I-I really...I--" He either was at a total loss for words, or didn't want to explain what was going on. Roslyn assumed it was the latter. He ended up skirting the issue. "Karl, why did they do that to you? You were Harrowed! They can't legally--"

"They're mad, Anders," Karl explained hastily, jerking his head up, "I'm not the only one, either. But when you're Tranquil - you don't think about who or  _ what _ you were before! And now that it's back, I...I just..."

"Karl..."

Karl looked about frantically, reaching out and grasping Anders roughly by the feathered cloak. "I don't know what you did, but it's fading!" He shouted, tears forming in his eyes. "Please, you have to stop it!! I can't go back to what I was before! Kill me,  _ please! _ "

Anders shook his head, his brows knitting together. "Karl, no, I-I-- I  _ can't _ ...!"

"I'd rather die then be made Tranquil," Roslyn said quietly from behind him, causing the other mage to jerk his head back towards her. She looked at him with a serious, yet empathetic expression. "To forget my dreams and emotions...please, give him the peace he wants." To once have emotions, have them taken away and for them to return? Only to feel them disappearing? It was a fate  _ worse _ the death. At least, with a release, Karl could be himself at the Maker's side again.

To this, Anders pursed his lips and slowly nodded. It was the same cool, heartbreaking expression that Aveline wore when she realized she had to kill her own husband to save him. Roslyn felt a chill run down her spine at it, wondering if there was something more between Anders and Karl then he was admitting.

It was the second time she had watched someone do that.

"Thank you, Anders." Karl said quietly, taking a step back and closing his eyes. Hawke handed him her dagger, the other mage taking it and inhaling deeply.

"Goodbye, Karl." He whispered in a low voice, opening his eyes and driving the dagger into Karl's chest. The once-Tranquil gave a groan and collapsed backwards, landing on the carpeting below. Anders quickly removed the dagger and turned on his heel. "We...should leave before more Templars come." His voice was hollow and heartbreaking, Hawke having to keep her cool so she wouldn't lose it, either.

How many more people had to be lost?

\-----

"So, he's an abomination?"

"Not...exactly."

Hawke stood before Varric again, having heard the long, in-depth and frankly  _ disturbing _ back-story that Anders had given her after the Chantry incident. Aveline and Carver were there as well, neither of them quite understanding the whole thing. Downside about them not being mages and not understanding the Fade.

"He said something about a spirit. Not sure if I get it, though." Carver mumbled, taking a long swig of his ale. After the events in the Chantry, Varric hardly blamed the kid.

"So, what is he, then?" The dwarf asked, quite curious about the whole thing. Sure, magic confounded him, being a dwarf and all, but it didn't mean it couldn't pique his interest. Plus, he was often more worried about trade deals then this kind of shit. "I thought  _ anyone _ who was possessed became an abomination."

"Not...entirely," Hawke continued, having declined a drink and opted for a mug of water. Varric had noticed she  _ never _ drank, not in any of the weeks he knew her. Probably because the stuff they served here wasn't exactly the cream of the crop.

"Spirits and demons are different. Demons  _ want _ our bodies - and no, not in the  _ sexual _ way, Carver," Her lug of a brother grunted at this comment, "So they can take over the world or some other nonsense. Spirits, on the other hand, don't have much interest in the mortal realm.  _ Usually _ . But this one got trapped in  _ our _ world, and Anders eventually offered his body up."

Varric raised a slow eyebrow. "So...he's still possessed...?"

"More-or-less," Roslyn gave a shrug of her shoulders. "He's still in control most of the time, but apparently this spirit, Justice or Vengeance or  _ whatever _ he's calling himself, does, hmm...take over sometimes? And effects his judgment? Shit, even  _ I'm _ not sure what in the Maker's holy name is going on with it." She took a swig of her water. "And I have an  _ affinity _ with the Fade."

"Does this make him dangerous?" Aveline inquired, having placed her sword and shield on the table for the moment.

Rosie looked at her frankly. " _ Everything _ in the Fade is dangerous." The vote of confidence didn't seem to make the brutish guard more comfortable with the situation. "Spirits, while more benevolent, still embody  _ one _ virtue - and that leads to extremes. Justice, for example, is merciless, cold, and thinks in black-and-white terms. Even things like valor and faith are dangerous in large quantities."

Carver groaned, flopping his head on the table. "Ugh, this whole  _ mess _ is giving me a headache."

"Sure it's not the ale?" Hawke interjected, Carver lifting his head up to give her the stink eye in response. She shrugged. "I just know it gives  _ me _ a headache." Varric snorted at the comment.

"So, what should we do about Anders? Is he dangerous to the people or not?" Of course, Mrs. Excellent Guard was more concerned about her  _ job _ then anything else. The Merchant Prince wondered if Aveline actually  _ knew _ what fun was. Then he grimly reminded himself that she often followed Rosie around on her off-duty hours.

"I think we should keep an eye on him," Rosie offered, twirling her now-empty mug in her hand. "Right now, I don't think he is. Unless you mention Templars. Or Karl. Or Tranquil...well, you get the idea." She cocked a smirk and reclined in her chair. "Plus, he's healing the poor for  _ free _ . Seems alright in my book. Just...be cautious."

"Understood." Aveline gave an affirmative nod of her head when she said this.

"Anyway," Varric changed the topic from this oh-so-dangerous apostate back to the task at hand. "Did you get the information we needed?"

Hawke smirked, "Really, Varric? Who are you  _ talking _ to here?" She reached into her bag and withdrew a bundle of maps, all stamped with the Grey Warden seals.

Varric mirrored her smirk. "I knew you wouldn't let me down, Rosie." She tossed them at him, the dwarf catching them and beginning to unroll one. "Now, let's see what we have here..." He began to study the maps, but didn't get far when he heard the door of his suite knock. Looking up, he shouted, "Come in!"

In came Edge, one of his most reliable contacts. "I got the info you want--err," He stopped mid-sentence and step when he noticed the two Hawke siblings and a city guard sitting at the table.

"Hawke, Edge. Edge, Hawke. Edge is one of my best contacts. Hawke here going to be helping me with the expedition." Varric hastily introduced, Hawke giving a small wave at the other dwarf. "The guy is her brother and the guard is a friend." Carver gave a snort into his mug and took another swig of it, Aveline rolling her eyes at his display of so-called "friendliness." "Anyway, what did you find?"

Edge studied Hawke for a moment, who was the only one actually  _ looking _ at him, but quickly turned his attention back to Varric. "Looked into that Anso guy like you wanted," He informed casually, "Turns out, he's not in the Carta, like you thought."

Varric raised his brows. "Really?"

Edge nodded, "No idea  _ who _ he's with, some kind of mysterious backer. Far as I can tell, he's either a mercenary or a nobody-Lyrium-smuggler. Do know he's new to the surface, so he don't have much in the way of contacts," Varric waited for Edge to catch his breath, "Most interesting thing is, he's been sending these invites out to freelance mercenaries all over Kirkwall. Whatever he wants done, gotta be  _ big _ ."

"Interesting." Varric stroked his chin. Somehow, Anso had enough know-how to find unassociated mercenaries to deal with this task. Obviously, whatever he was doing or whoever was is backer  _ really _ wanted something bad. In which case, it was a free-for-all and whoever got there first, got the spoils. A little less shifty, now that he thought about it.

" _ And _ he's promising a very large reward."

"Well, I'm in!" Hawke set her mug down enthusiastically on the table. "What's a few  _ more _ Sovereigns, eh?"

Aveline gave her a scrutinizing glance. "Hawke, are you sure you want to deal with a smuggler?"

Rosie was already up on her feet, re-attaching her staff to her back. "If you don't like it, don't come along." She teased, flashing a coy grin down at the guardsman. Aveline grumbled something under her breath, also rising up and strapping her sword and shield back on her person.

" _ Someone _ has to keep you out of trouble."

\-----

This day just kept on getting better and better!

They finally found Anso - a twitchy, jumpy thing - who directed them to a hovel the thieves of his cargo had slipped into. It sounded like he was smuggling Lyrium by the description, but once inside, Roslyn didn't feel the usual hum of it. After dealing with the thieves inside, the only chest in the building was totally empty. Maker, it didn't even  _ look _ like anything was ever even inside of it!

"Sodding waste of time!" Varric hissed, kicking the empty chest. "Who put us up to this?!" Nobody was happy Anso had sent them on a wild goose chase. For nothing.

"Glad to know I won't be an accessory to Lyrium smuggling," Aveline noted, the only one sounding thankful at this rather  _ disastrous _ situation.

"Well, I don't suppose he'd be talking about  _ empty _ cargo," Roslyn sighed, scratching her head. "Unless, of course, he's gone totally mad from Lyrium poisoning..."

Carver snorted, "We should go ask him what this is about." He crossed his arms and turned on his heel. "I hate going on missions for  _ nothing _ ."

"And I don't have the clink of gold in my hand yet." Hawke concurred, also feeling rather perturbed at the situation.

First, she had to deal with a spirit-possessed man and Templars in the Chantry earlier tonight, and now that it was so late  _ nobody _ was out, she was sent on a stupid chase for no reward. What the hell was Anso going on about? He seemed so frantic to get his cargo back, but there was  _ no cargo _ . It even had the seal he had mentioned! Only way to find out was to ask him. Preferably with Aveline hitting him upside the head with her shield.

As Merrill said, Aveline hit  _ hard _ .

Turns out, they weren't the  _ only _ ones after the cargo.

The very instant the group left the hovel, they were surrounded by a whole platoon of men. Probably twenty or so, if Roslyn had to guess, and it looked like they were all wearing Tevinter armor and clothing. Seeing the style, she quickly scanned the crowds but didn't see any Magister's lurking around, thank the Maker. That was the  _ last _ thing she needed tonight!

"Give it up!" The leader of the men shouted, brandishing his sword at Hawke. True to his armor-style, he had a Tevinter accent. She raised a brow.

"Give  _ what _ up?" She asked, holding her hands out to show them that they were empty.

"You know  _ exactly _ what, bitch!" He shouted again, still trying to look threatening. Roslyn remained unimpressed.

"How can I give 'it' up when I don't even know what it is?" She questioned, still holding her arms out to the sides.

The captain gritted his teeth. "Fine, we'll do this the  _ hard _ way!" He pointed his sword towards Hawke and her companions. "Attack!"

"Why can't anyone ever point feathers at me instead of  _ swords _ ?" She grumbled, twisting her longmace in her hand.

Given that it was the Alienage, and she never knew who might be watching, she abstained from using any magic. There were some elves here that would give anything for a few bits, and she didn't really want to risk it. That, and with Carver and Aveline backing her, and Varric snipping, the quartet made quick work of the Tevinter soldiers. Soon, they lay dead in the empty Alienage, and Roslyn was still confused.

"Well, they obviously had  _ something _ in mind," Varric muttered, folding up Bianca and replacing her against his back. "I wonder if they were after whatever it was Anso wanted."

"What  _ does _ he bloody want, anyway?" Carver gave a disgruntled snort, the group heading up to find the shifty dwarf. "The chest was empty! Hell, the  _ house _ was empty!"

"Except the men we killed inside," Aveline noted, getting a glare from the other brutish ginger. But, she was unphased by it. "This is rather odd, though. Why would a whole  _ platoon _ of clearly well-armed soldiers from Tevinter be involved? Especially with Lyrium?"

"They're bored?" Hawke offered, Aveline going to open her mouth, but closed it and shook her head. She knew not to sass her short companion back. Folding her arms behind her head, Roslyn heaved a sigh. "I sure hope Anso didn't set us up for a trap..."

"If he did, it's a piss-poor one." Varric grumbled. "He should  _ know _ not to mess with the Rose Hawk." Roslyn snorted, blowing some of her long bangs from her eyes. "But, we'll find out what's going on when--"

The quartet stopped when another man, also in Tevinter armor, appeared at the top of the stairs that lead out of the Alienage. Roslyn instantly unfolded her arms and narrowed her eyes up at him.

"I don't know who you are or what you want, girl," The man hissed, narrowing his eyes down at her, "But you've made a grave mistake, messing with my men!" Tensing up, his eyes bugged out and his brows raised. "Lieutenant! I want all of my men in the courtyard!  _ Now!! _ "

Hawke reached for her staff again, her companions also drawing their weapons in response. But, after a few tense moments of waiting, no one came. The Tevinter soldier blinked and slowly turned his head around. "Lieutenant!!" He shouted again, jerking his body backwards.

A man stumbled out.

"C-Capta-tain..." He grunted, before collapsing to the ground, dead. Odd, there wasn't a single marking on him...

"What the--?!"

"Your men are  _ dead _ ."

A deep, gravely male voice came out from around the corner. Roslyn blinked when an elf appeared, wearing dark clothing and light armor, his sword and chest piece coated in enough blood to explain why the Tevinter's men didn't rise to his call. The elf had startling white hair - she hadn't ever seen the like before - and strange, white markings on what little skin she could see.

He was a  _ tall  _ elf too, like holy Maker tall. Sleekly built and carrying a large sword with enough blood and guts coating it, that it looked like he had cut down an army to get there.

The Tevinter man blanched.

"And your trap has failed. I  _ suggest _ running back to your master while you can." The elf continued, his light green eyes focused intently on the human before him. Strange, the closer this elf got, the more Roslyn could've  _ sworn _ she felt the hum of Lyrium somewhere...

"Y-you, you aren't going anywhere!!" The soldier shouted, whipping around and reaching for the elf. "You're coming with me,  _ slave _ !"

The white markings on the elf suddenly burst to life. The distant buzz of what might be Lyrium became a loud cry, the marks glowing a brilliant white-blue, even dully visible under his clothing and armor, tracing their way from his throat down to his fingers and toes. The elf reached out with his hand and thrust it through the Tevinter man's chest. The soldier grunted and his eyes went wide, the hum dying down for just a moment, before the elf removed his hand.

The soldier fell down, dead. Not a single drop of blood fell from his body or from the elf's hand, and there wasn't any visible hole, either. The markings on the elf faded back to their natural state.

"I am  _ not _ a slave." The elf muttered down at the corpse.

Well, that was certainly... _ different _ .

With his target down, the elf looked past the body and towards the humans - and dwarf - standing before him. As Hawke was at the head of their little group, his eyes fell upon her.

"I apologize," He stated, his voice less rough, though still distinctly gravely. "I am your true client. I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, but I had no idea they would be so...numerous."

"Well, I think I know what 'it' is," Varric muttered in an aside to Hawke, who found herself grinning. No wonder why Edge couldn't find any information about who was backing Anso - it was, what it appeared to be, an escaped slave from Tevinter. Who felt like he had Lyrium on him, and might explain his weird glowy-thing he had going on.

But, Roslyn dismissed this and gave a small wave of her hand. "Oh, we had no trouble," She grinned, crossing her arms, "I mean, have you  _ seen _ my brother and friend back here? I'm pretty sure they could tear out the spines of anyone who came after us." Carver puffed his chest out at the comment, but Aveline didn't respond. She was probably groaning internally, though. Much to Roslyn's surprise, the elf managed to grin.

"So I see."

Her own grin faded. "But, I assume these men were after you, right?"

The elf gave a short nod of his head. "You are correct. My name is Fenris." He turned on his heel and noted the other corpses littering the Alienage. "These men are Imperial bounty hunters, seeking a Magister's lost property...namely, myself." He turned over his shoulder to look back at Hawke. So he  _ was _ an escaped slave.

"Well, I feel less guilty about killing them." She replied with a slow grin. Fenris didn't share the expression this time, pulling a cloth out and tending to his bloodied sword.

"They  _ had _ hoped to lure me into the open, and I knew I could not face them alone," He continued to explain, turning fully back towards the group, "So, I needed to find someone capable of assisting. Thankfully, Anso appears to have chosen wisely."

"Damn straight he did!" Carver smirked, crossing his arms in a prideful manor, his chest still puffed out. Roslyn rolled her eyes, but decided not to comment on the display.

"So then, I guess there isn't really a job here? Just a distraction?" She inquired with a tilt of her head.

"Not...precisely," Fenris paused briefly, glancing off to the side before retraining his gaze back on her. "It is just it was not what you thought it was. Perhaps the deception was not necessary, and if that is so, I am sorry." His eyes flitted down briefly. "I have simply become too accustomed to hiding." The sword cleaned, he replaced it on his back and tucked the cloth back into his armor.

"An escaped slave? I never thought you'd be constantly on the run, ducking into dark corners, always fearful of who might be watching!" Roslyn teased, but Fenris obviously didn't get the joke. He snapped his attention back up to her, his eyes hardening. "Erm, sorry. That was a joke."

"...Ah."

"You'll have to forgive her," Aveline offered in a patronizing tone, "Hawke here doesn't know  _ when _ to turn the jokes and sarcasm off, much to my chagrin." Roslyn turned and stuck her tongue out.

"And here I thought you were on  _ my _ side!" She laughed, throwing her arms into the air.

"Hawke." Aveline's voice turned hard, narrowing her green eyes down at her.

"Oh fine, fine!" Hawke turned around and folded her arms, looking back at the white-haired elf, who looked a little...left out of the loop. "Anyway, this seems like a  _ lot _ of effort for one slave."

Fenris snorted. "Yes, it is."

Tilting her head to the side, Roslyn traced her eyes down the white markings on his flesh, and felt the hum of Lyrium in the back of her mind. "It's those markings of yours, right? Can't hardly say I've  _ ever _ seen a man shove his fist into another person's chest and  _ not _ come out with a bloody mess." She decided to opt out of mentioning her suspicions that the markings were made of Lyrium until later. Plus, she wasn't really sure  _ how _ that would work, anyway.

"Yes," Fenris confirmed, lifting his arms up and looking at his own marks, "I...imagine I must look a bit  _ strange _ to you." He seemed a bit hesitant of this fact, but lowered his arms and continued. "They have served me well, though I did not receive them by  _ choice _ ." Obviously, he didn't want to talk about it, and moved on. "Might I ask what was in the chest?"

"Absolutly-sodding- _ nothing _ ," Varric grumbled disgustedly, kicking the dirt below his feet.

Fenris dropped a bit, but kept his cool otherwise. "Ah, I see." Roslyn arched a brow, but didn't pursue the reasoning behind his gesture. "Regardless, if they are here, then..." Bending down, he rummaged around the man he just killed, finding a piece of parchment on his body. The elf unrolled it and quickly read the contents. Instantly, his cool demeanor changed to tense and threatening, his face twisting into a dark glare.

"I should have known!" He hissed, his markings lighting up again and the letter disintegrated in his hand. "My former master accompanied them to the city!" The white-blue glow faded and he turned back to Hawke. "There is little time. I must buy my freedom from him,  _ by force _ , before he has a chance to flee!" The glare faded momentarily, "I know it is much to ask of you, but I will need help to stop him."

Carver turned to his sister, "What, you're not  _ seriously _ considering this?" He whispered harshly at her, "We can't take down a Magister!"

Roslyn turned back to him, "Yes, we are. And yes, we  _ can _ ." She replied back, glaring up at him. Carver was about to protest when she turned back around. "I suppose adding 'killing a Tevinter Magister' to the list of things I wanted to do today wouldn't hurt, would it?" From behind her, she heard both her brother and Varric groan.

"You have my thanks, stranger." Fenris relaxed a bit again, giving a small incline of his head. "I will find a way to repay you for your efforts. Come, we must leave now; there is no time to waste." And, turning on his heel, he began up the steps.

"And here I thought tonight was going to be a  _ quiet _ night..." Roslyn sighed to herself, following the elf up the stairs, her entourage trailing behind her.


	3. Dark Corners

The walk up to Hightown was still.

Given that it was very late at night - or early in the morning, he couldn't tell - no one was loitering around. Fenris walked ahead of the group of humans and a dwarf, focused on his primary goal of butchering his former master. Not much else lingered in his mind, except how glorious it will feel to have that man's heart in his hands. To see his look of agony and fear while Fenris slowly crushed it in his palm. And, he would be free at last.

Still, he knew he could not go in alone.

The group of folks he had gathered were certainly...interesting. There was Varric, the dwarf, who stood out among the three humans. If Fenris hadn't been introduced to them, he would have assumed Aveline and Carver were related, given their similar heights and hair color. Surprisingly, Carver was related to the short, darker red-head that appeared to lead them. Maker, she was small for a human, almost the height of an elven woman. Fenris himself was tall for an elf, but was still shorter than most human men. How could she be so small compared to her brother?

They all called her something different. Her brother called her Roz, the dwarf addressed her as Rosie, she introduced herself as Roslyn Hawke, and yet Aveline simply called her Hawke. But, Fenris hadn't really spoken to them aside from their main objective and learning their names, which he was fine with. She seemed content to allow him to focus, only occasionally making a side comment or two to Varric.

With all of his festering thoughts, it didn't take long for them to reach the seemingly abandoned mansion Danarius was in. Cautiously, he studied it.

"Strange," He noted, narrowing his eyes. "This appears to be the correct address, but there is no sign of movement or activity from within..."

"He might've left," Carver suggested.

"Or he could be laying in wait, knowing we'd come?" Varric offered. Carver snorted and stretched, looking about ready to pass out on his feet, given how late it was.

Hawke patted her tall brother on the shoulder. "Now, now, I know it's  _ far _ past your bedtime, my dear little brother, but we shouldn't just give up, should we?"

Carver grumbled. "...I wish you'd stop patronizing me..." He was obviously pouting.

"And  _ I _ wish you'd stop com--"

Fenris glared at the bickering siblings. "We must hurry and proceed inside. I cannot allow this opportunity to elude me." He hissed, his voice gravely and dark. Both of them looked in his direction and stopped arguing, Carver huffing and crossing his arms, his sister giving a small, determined nod. "Danarius may already know we're here; the louder we are and the more we linger, the more likely he is to escape."

"I agree, we should move in quickly," Aveline noted. Fenris liked how direct she was.

"Then let us go."

Danarius was clever, and likely had set a trap for them when they arrived. That much was certain, given how the front door was unlocked, practically inviting them inside. The mansion certainly had a creepy, abandoned vibe, what with cobwebs and rotting crates littering the place. Hawke seemed to notice it as well, her leather-bound...saff? Mace? Already in her hands.

"Well, this certainly isn't  _ ominous _ or anything." Her tone was light, if not a bit uneasy. He wasn't sure if she was deflecting her discomfort with humor if she was  _ genuinely _ that disinterested in what was going on around her.

Varric tottled on ahead, squatting down and fuddling with a tile on the floor. "Looks like he's left us a few  _ welcoming _ gifts." He chided, disarming a trap that blocked the doorway. "I'll keep a look out for any more traps - just try not to make any loud noises." With that out of the way, it allowed the group to press forward into a larger room.

The moment they stepped into the room, Hawke stopped. Fenris, Varric and Aveline continued on past her, not really noticing the change. Carver, however, stopped beside his older sister and looked down at her with concern in his tired eyes.

"...Roz?"

Fenris turned at the waist and looked back at them, noticing how her light-hearted expression had become focused. "...It feels like..." She narrowed her green-blue eyes, her voice trailing off. They flitted over towards him, though he could not discern why.

"Like the crushing force of an old, creepy, abandoned--" Varric started to say in his usual, snarky tone, but he was quickly cut off when a group of shades burst from the floor and the walls. "--Possessed house! Well, can't say I didn't walk right into  _ that _ one!" He noted, quickly firing a bolt into one of them.

"He sends his  _ pets _ to do his dirty work!" Fenris hissed, feeling the searing pain of his Lyrium markings burst to life, trailing fire and lightning from his jaw down to his fingers and toes. The pain didn't matter; it was the power and the force behind the tattoos that mattered. Rushing forward, he allowed himself to phase right through one of the shades and into the throng of them, releasing a bust of energy from the markings, pulling their power from the Fade itself to disburse a large group of the fiends.

Thankfully, his current allies were competent as well.

Aveline quickly covered Varric while he fired bolts into the monsters that were at a distance, the guardsman knocking the shades aside with her trusty sword if they ventured too close. Carver, despite how outwardly exhausted he was, showed he was  _ fairly _ capable. Fenris noted right away that his stance was too narrow and he wasn't using his whole body in his attacks, but it was enough to fell some of them.

Then, there was Hawke.

Considering how lithe and petite she was, it came at no surprise that she was quick and agile on her feet. She confused a few of the shades attacking her by slipping away, only to hit them with the heavy mace end of her stave. There wasn't the same force behind her attacks as Aveline and Carver, but she hit so quickly that it really didn't matter. Good, this meant they would be quite useful in the fight against Fenris' former master.

Quickly, the shades were dispatched. Fenris called off the glow of his markings, feeling the burning pain fade into a dull tingle. Since the creatures appeared, it meant Danarius knew they were present.  _ Good _ .

"Danarius! Can you hear me?!" He shouted, hopefully loud enough for the Magister to hear. "I  _ will _ end your pathetic life!"

"Perhaps goading the powerful Magister isn't exactly...wise?" Hawke suggested in her light tone. Fenris shot a glare over at her.

"You have  _ no idea _ what he's done." He growled dangerously, feeling his hands tense up at how easy-going she was during this situation. She blinked and raised her hand, her brows elevating.

"Sorry, I...I didn't mean to offend--"

"It is done." Fenris grunted angrily, stating that her comment had already left it's mark, turning on his heel and proceeding towards the hallway. "Let us keep moving and be done with this." He didn't care what she thought, he just wanted to slay Danarius for every injustice emblazed upon the elf's skin. Nothing could keep him from this goal, crass comments from his company aside. Hawke seemed to accept this and didn't say anything else on the matter.

"...Wow, we sure picked up a winner, didn't we?" He heard Varric mumble, Hawke responding with a nervous chuckle. Fenris pretended to ignore the comment.

Several more rooms, a few more shades down; and Fenris could feel himself getting closer. The group entered into the main hall, Varric once again taking the lead and working on disarming traps around the room. Odd, it was very still right now...there were no more shades or any demons to face, and there were no guards  _ or _ slavers. Fenris was almost certain that Danarius would be on the upper level and make himself known. Unless, of course, he had set a trap, which wasn't beyond the sadistic bastard.

Cautiously, Fenris proceeded up the stairs. Aveline stuck around near the bottom, by Varric, while the dwarf tinkered with the various traps. Carver stood at the base of the steps, keeping his eyes trained on his sister while she followed Fenris up.

After gracing the threshold of the top of the steps, Fenris proceeded towards a door that likely lead to the master bedroom. He noted the other rooms to his right and left - which were both open - appeared to be a study and a guest room. If Danarius could be found, it would be in the room directly before him. He would  _ not _ delay, he couldn't. After so many years of being hunted and living in fear, he was finally ready to crush the Magister's heart in his hand!

"Fenris, behind--!" The elf suddenly heard Hawke cry from behind him, turning around just in time to see an arcane horror appear from the ground. He sneered and reached for his blade, but the horror was already rushing towards him, long, spider-like claws extended. This wasn't going to be pretty.

A blast of purple, spiritual energy hit the creature in the back, causing it to lurch forward and whip around. Hawke stood with her left hand extended, right hand coiled around her staff.

"If you want to fight someone, fight me!" She bellowed, the horror giving a grisly scream and lunging towards her. What in Andraste's name was she--

Hawke twisted her staff above her and brought it down hard on the ground, and from it burst a massive wave of ice. Spikes shot along the ruined tiled floor, rocketing towards the arcane horror. The monster was pierced by the spikes and it's feet were fused to the ground, ice trailing up it's form and starting to freeze it solid. Lifting her staff from the ground, Hawke summoned another spiritual sphere and shot it towards the horror, clenching her fist when it hit and releasing a large explosion from it. The horror screamed as it was blown apart, chunks of it's body scattering across the room.

She had used magic. Hawke was a  _ mage _ .

Hawke had saved him from the arcane horror, but had used magic to do so. Conflict seized him in place, staring at her with his hands gripping the hilt of his sword. Magic was the cause of all evil in Tevinter, the root of all of his suffering; but she hadn't used it until his life was in danger that very moment. Who  _ was _ she really?

However, this was not the time to dwell on it! There were still shades about, and Hawke had helped with her magic. He could discuss the situation with her later. Their ends aligned right now, and Danarius was the target. Not her.

It did not take long for the group to finish off the remainder of the shades and demons, those caught below quickly catching up to Fenris and Hawke.

Fenris quickly kicked down the door to the master bedroom, rushing into find the Magister he was  _ so _ looking forward to seeing. However, even upon a close inspection, there was no sign that Danarius had even  _ been _ there, even recently. There were items littered around, showing he had left in a hurry - but he had been gone for days, weeks even. Fenris felt his heart sink, knowing that he would have to flee soon, lest he get captured.

"I...take it he isn't here?" Hawke said cautiously, peering into the room behind him.

Fenris gritted his teeth. "Of  _ course _ he isn't," He grumbled, shaking his head. "I had hoped we'd arrive in...well, it doesn't matter now." Lifting his head up, he cautiously met Hawke's gaze, seeing the pity in her eyes. He hated that look. "...It appears he has left valuables behind. Take them, if you wish. I...cannot be here any longer." And, with that, he quickly brushed past the group and down the stairs.

Gone.

This was as close as he had ever gotten! To have the bastard slip away from him, to disappear like that - it left a bitter pit in Fenris' stomach. He was angry, he was worried, he was...shit, he didn't know anymore. Maker's blood, he didn't know what to do. After so many years of running, he was  _ finally _ ready to face his former captor, finally ready to stop running and defeat the wolf at his heels. And now...he had failed. He didn't know when Danarius would be within reach again. He would just need to be more cautious then ever.

And then, there was Hawke.

Fenris was surprised to find she was a mage. He didn't know any mage that could fight like she could - but judging from the fact she was outside of the Circle, she was an apostate. She didn't want anyone to know  _ what _ she was. It might also explain why she didn't use her magic at first, as well as her use of light armor. Still, he didn't know her nor what her motivations were. But she had helped him, and he owed her a great debt, despite the fact his target wasn't there.

But, he did not want to just stalk off into the night.

After all, Hawke and her companions  _ did _ help him. Granted, Danarius wasn't there to receive payback in blood, but they still helped none the less. Fenris sighed once he stepped into the cool night air, leaning against the wall by the front door.

It didn't take long for them to loot the place and meet him outside.

Fenris didn't even look up from where he was leaning, festering in his thoughts. He heard Hawke's light footsteps against the tiled walkway, ahead the group of heavier-footed companions that trailed her. He didn't even wait for one of them to speak first.

“I thank you all for your assistance, even though my target was not housed within.” Fenris started, being cordial at first. Raising his head up, he looked at Hawke through his bangs, meeting her gaze. “Though I was not aware that there was a  _ mage _ in your midst.” He said the word with more distaste than he had intended.

To her credit, Hawke didn't recoil from his unintentional sharp words nor hide from the gravity of the situation behind a mask of humor. “I'm not here to fight you, Fenris.” Her voice was serious, holding his gaze with the same sort of expression. “I...also wasn't attempting to  _ hide _ it. I just never know who I can show it to, and those who I can't.”

“Evidently, he's one of the latter.” Varric mumbled in an aside.

Carver was about to step in, but Hawke held her hand out to the side, which halted him. "Look, I don't know what your issues are with mages, but whatever it is, I'm not your enemy." She continued, still holding Fenris' angered gaze with her own collected one.

“You did help me, and in fact may have saved my life. I owe you a debt.” Fenris admitted, still leaning against the pillar. He crossed his arms. “My viewpoints on magic are... _ difficult _ , at best. My whole life has been tainted by it. Nothing that I have have known has not been corrupted by the evils of magic.”

“I understand that.” Hawke nodded her head, “I can't imagine what life was like for you in Tevinter, as a slave to Danarius. A Magister.” Taking in a breath, she took a cautious step closer. Fenris didn't flinch and kept her gaze. “What will it take to prove to you that I'm trustworthy, Fenris?”

“A great deal.” Fenris stated simply with a small shrug of his shoulders. "What is it, then, that you seek, mage?"

Hawke looked taken aback by the comment. "What I...seek?"

"What is it that you want?" Fenris continued, "Simple enough, isn't it?"

"I could go for a nice, soft bed right now, to be honest." Hawke dismissed the comment with humor, and if Fenris wasn't in such a defensive state, he probably would've chuckled at it. "But as a mage? Do I really need to  _ want _ anything, or seek something?"

"Perhaps so, perhaps not," Fenris noted. How strange that she didn't want anything.

“What I really want is a home, I suppose.” Hawke said, truthfully. Fenris could tell the truth in her gaze. That was...odd. A home? He didn't understand why she would have that goal, but maybe it would make sense as they got to know each other.  _ If  _ they got to know each other.

“I see.” Fenris sighed. "Yet, I am sure danger will, undoubtedly, find you, Hawke."

"It usually does." She gave a melancholy sigh at the statement.

"Exactly so, which means your  _ friends _ should be wary of you." Fenris cast a look to the group behind them.

"Hey, if you have a problem with my sister, you have a problem with  _ me! _ " Carver shouted, using his imposing size in an attempt to intimidate Fenris. He was not impressed, especially considering the fact that the brooding ginger wasn't the most skilled with a sword Fenris had seen. Still, it was, perhaps, prudent to move on from the situation.

"I imagine I must appear ungrateful," He managed to say tactfully, trying to quell his anger and aversion to the notion that Hawke was a mage. "If so, I apologize. Nothing could be further from the truth. I owe you a debt for your assistance, despite the fact that Danarius was not here."

"He must  _ really _ want you bad, huh?" Hawke noted, crossing her arms and donning her more light-hearted expression. Fenris scoffed.

"Not me, per-say. He only desires the markings upon my flesh." He lifted his arms up again, looking down at the burned tattoos along his bicep.

Hawke's eyes drifted down towards them as well. "They're Lyrium, aren't they?"

Fenris lifted his gaze back up to her. "Indeed they are. You are quite perceptive."

"I'm a mage, as you've discovered." She responded with a shrug and a grin. “I am also very Lyrium-sensitive, so there's that as well.”

"Lyrium? That doesn't sound like it would be pleasant," Aveline commented, also looking at the markings on him. "Direct contact with it can kill someone."

"As I am aware," Fenris lowered his arms and rubbed the back of his neck, "They constantly hurt, though I have gotten used to the dull pain they inflict upon me. When I trigger them, it causes severe burning sensations. Any physical contact also causes severe discomfort."

" _ Ouch _ ." Varric flinched.

"But you needn't pity me. I am not made of glass, and have lived with them for years." Fenris continued, looking back over towards Hawke. "But it is these markings Danarius wants, not me. He wishes his investment returned, even if he must rip them from my corpse."

Hawke flinched as well. "Well, now I see why you hate him so much. I can't possibly  _ imagine _ that going well for you." She gave a forced chuckle, but managed to grin after that. "Seems like a waste of a  _ perfectly _ handsome elf, too."

It was now Fenris' turn to be taken aback by a comment. He coughed awkwardly and scratched his nose with his thumb, trying to ignore how flirty that sounded. Was she actually trying to...?

"Roz..." Carver gave a low sigh, running his hand down his face. Hawke turned back to her brother.

"What?" She asked, giving another shrug, "Can't deny the truth, right?" Carver groaned at the statement and flushed, obviously trying to ignore the fact that his older sister had more-or-less admitted she thought Fenris was attractive. The elf coughed again and  _ also _ tried to ignore it.

"Anyway! Moving on..." Varric derailed the conversation. Returning his attention back to the present, Fenris reached down to a pouch at his waist and withdrew it.

"Here is your reward, as Anso promised." He offered it to Hawke, "It is not much, but it is all I have."

To his surprise, she put her hand over his gauntleted fingers and shoved his arm back. "Keep it." Fenris blinked and raised his brows, not quite sure  _ why _ she was refusing her reward for helping him.

" _ What? _ " Came both Varric and Carver's response, practically in unison.

"Rosie, after all of this trouble we went through, you want to  _ deny _ our payment?" Varric proclaimed, holding his arms out in a gesture of disbelief. She glanced back at him and shrugged her shoulders.

"Roz, we  _ need _ the money for the expedition!" Carver also protested, but Hawke ignored both of their comments.

Fenris blinked his eyes again, looking down at the rejected pouch of money. "...Why?"

"I can't rightfully build  _ trust _ if I can't earn it, can I?" Hawke turned back towards him and grinned, tilting her head to the side. He still store at her in confusion. "Besides, if this is all you have...I can't just up and take  _ everything _ . That would be inconsiderate of me!" She smirked.

_ That _ aroused a chuckle in him.

Still, it did not erase the fact that she was a mage, and he was someone who had suffered through magic for as long as he could remember. But, at least Hawke could ease the tension between them with a comment like that. Taking his pouch back, he re-attached it to his belt and gave her a small nod.

"Fair enough." He said, meeting her playful gaze. "However, I still owe you a debt. If you have need of me, I shall be here." Turning his attention back up towards the mansion, Fenris folded his arms. "If Danarius  _ really _ wants his mansion back, he can come and claim it."

Hawke smirked, "Well, if he ever decides to show up, I'll be more then happy to help you kick his arse." Fenris glanced down at her, raising a brow. "Hey, just because I'm a mage, too, doesn't mean that I can't hate idiots like that." She shrugged.

"...I see..."

"Anyway! It's really quite late and I'm about to pass out," Hawke chuckled, giving a small yawn and a stretch for emphasis.

"Maker, it's about  _ damn _ time you said that!" Carver groaned, "Bed..."

Fenris chuckled a bit at that. "Understandable," He said, "Thank you again for your assistance. I will be here, should you desire my aid." And, with a small incline of his head, he proceeded back into the mansion.

It certainly had been an interesting night.

\-----

Leandra Hawke sat impatiently at the table in the common room. It was nigh on 3 AM in the morning, the streets were quiet and she heard her brother snoring loudly in the other room. She would have been asleep as well, but neither of her children had been home all day. Carver, she understood sometimes; after all, occasionally mercenary work took a while and he'd come trudging in at all hours of the evening.

Still, it didn't make her worry less.

But Roslyn, she had no job aside from the off-the-wall ones  _ that dwarf _ kept finding for her. But never had she nor Carver been away for so long. It worried her, especially when she had so little left to lose.

Leandra knew that Roslyn was saving money for that expedition, and that Varric person was helping her collect it. It worried her endlessly. They had spent two weeks, battered by serve storms to  _ escape  _ from the Darkspawn, and now Roz wanted to go _ back _ into that nightmare? It was anything to cause alarm in a mother, but her daughter assured her it would all be worth it.

It didn't excuse traipsing about at all hours of the night, making their poor, frazzled mother fret.

After all, it hadn't even been two years since Bethany--

The front door creaked open carefully, so as not to disturb anyone within. Leandra was on her feet in an instant, spotting her two children slinking into the hovel.

"Uh-oh..." Roslyn muttered when she spotted their mother, clear on the war-path.

"Where in Andraste's name have you two been?" Leandra demanded, crossing her arms and glowering at them. Her two children winced in the presence of her scolding gaze.

"It's...rather complicated," Roslyn said awkwardly, scratching the back of her head. Carver was shifting his weight on his feet in nervousness.

Leandra's glare deepened, "Explain it to me," She said crossly.

Roslyn sighed and shook her head. "It was a combination of a job and helping Varric out." Leandra raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"That's not a whole lot for being out  _ this _ late at night!" She exclaimed. Her eldest chuckled nervously, obviously having something to say, but not wanting to say it outright. Carver's silence wasn't helping. Heaving a worried sigh, Leandra uncrossed her arms. "Look, I know you think that this 'expedition' that Varric fellow is planning will help, but you  _ can't _ go traipsing about Kirkwall so late! Who  _ knows _ what kind of trouble you'll run into?"

"We're fine, mother." Carver insisted, though his towering form - a trait both he and Bethany got from Malcolm - was shrinking.

"How am I to know that?" Leandra retorted, "When you both are gone, doing Maker-knows-what, at all hours of the night! I..." Her voice trailed off and she sighed, looking down at the muddy floor. "...I've already lost Bethany. My heart can't stand losing either of you." Looking up again, she met both of their gazes with a pained one.

Although it had been over a year since Bethany died, it was still fresh on her mind. The thought of her remaining children running off into an unknown danger, was almost too much. Although she knew both of them were capable and responsible adults - well, Roslyn was most days - it still didn't lessen her worry. Leandra sighed and looked down, but lifted her gaze when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I know you want us to be safe," Roslyn offered gently, looking up with those same green-blue eyes she got from her father, "But we can't  _ be _ safe until we have enough coin to protect  _ what _ I am."

Leandra sighed again. "...I know."

Her daughter squeezed her shoulder. "And I know what we're doing is dangerous, which is  _ why _ I don't tell you exactly what it is." This caused Leandra to raised a brow. "I don't want you to worry about me and Carver more then you have to."

Leandra pursed her lips. "It still won't make me  _ not _ worry." She admitted, shaking her head, "But, I can understand  _ why _ , Roz." She reached up and covered her daughter's hand with her own. "Just, let me know next time you expect to be out this late, so I don't think you got mugged and murdered in an ally."

"Mother!" Roslyn laughed, "You know very well  _ no one _ is going to try and jump Carver! You'd need a ladder to do that!" Leandra couldn't help but to grin at Roslyn's unique brand of humor.

"Well,  _ thank you _ for the vote of confidence," Carver gave a disgruntled grumble, crossing his arms. "I'm not just here to intimidate people, you know."

Roslyn smirked back at him. "But you do it  _ so well, _ dear--"

"Will all of you just  _ shut up _ ?" The trio of Hawkes turned around to see Gamlen standing in the doorframe of one of the bedrooms. "Some of us are trying to sleep, here!"

\-----

Roslyn took in a deep breath, looking up at Fenris' "mansion." Not that anyone should  _ rightfully _ called an old, abandoned, shoddy place a mansion, but it  _ was _ in the mansion district and it was very large, so, there it was. She had to admit, she was a bit nervous about just barging in and asking for the elf's help, given on how less then... _ ideal _ terms the two had parted on. What with her being a mage and he having some kind of issue with them. An understandable issue, of course; but an issue none-the-less. But she wanted to earn his trust and assure him that not all magic was evil.

But, it had been about a week and she was in  _ dire _ need of some muscle, given the job she was about to head off to do.

Letting out her breath, she approached the door. Roslyn was thankful she decided to seek out Fenris first, before collecting her other companions. She didn't really want any of them to comment on the odd situation, or try to talk her out of it. Honestly! Why did that Javaris have to recruit her to hunt Qunari, and Tal-Vashoth to boot?

Just her special brand of "luck."

Aveline was, of course, busy today; and with Carver Maker-knows-where, Roslyn decided to play it safe. Hopefully Fenris would be true to his word for helping her, because she sorely needed someone a bit more reliable. Not that a glowing, ex-slave was "reliable" per-say, but better then a very busy guardswoman-soon-to-be-guard-captain and Roslyn's mercenary brother. Frankly, she needed all of the help she could get against the ox-men, defectors or no, and she was prepared to schmooze her way into the elf's good graces.

_ Somehow _ .

As rapping on the front door of an apparently-abandoned mansion in broad daylight was likely not a good idea, Roslyn just shoved the side-door open and slipped inside. Thankfully, it gave, as it wasn't locked. Obviously, Fenris wasn't expecting thieves to come in to his "borrowed" establishment.

She found the place as horrible as they had left it, right down to some corpses laying around the floor. Odd, she swore some of them were new; probably looters he killed when they got in. It still looked hopelessly dilapidated and completely abandoned, probably on purpose.  _ Hopefully _ . But, then again, Fenris didn't especially  _ seem _ like the type to enjoy some good home decorating. Maker, was it needed here, though!

Stepping over a corpse, Roslyn approached the main hall and noticed the door at the top ajar, and a light coming from it. Good, it meant he was probably home. Scaling the steps, she rounded the corner and towards he master bedroom, peering inside. Even if she couldn't feel the tingle of his Lyrium markings on the back of her neck due to the distance, she noticed him sitting in a corner.

The fire was blazing in the hearth, and he sat on a rather nice chair, tending to his equipment. There was an open bottle of some kind of liquor on the table next to him. Roslyn briefly wondered what he did all day in this giant, abandoned mansion, but shook it from her head.

She reached for the ajar door and went to knock on it, but it seemed he sensed her presence before she could. "Come in."

"And here I thought I was being dastardly and sneaky," Roslyn chuckled, straightening up and proceeding into the small room. She noted that it was, at least, was relatively clean and tidy. No corpses, at least.

"These ears are not just for show," Fenris commented dryly, setting his sword and whetstone down. He lifted his head up and looked at her through his unruly bangs, gesturing for her to come closer. There was another chair across from him, so she promptly flopped down in it. "I was unsure whether you would return, Hawke."

"Oh, once you have me, you'll  _ never _ get rid of me!" Roslyn said with a slow grin, tilting her head to the side. "So be prepared to be stuck with me for life." Fenris made a small grimace, suggesting that it wasn't entirely his idea of a good time. So, she decided to change subjects, reclining in the chair and crossing her legs. "Anyway, I just love what you did with the place! The corpses  _ really _ bring out the color of the walls."

That brought forth a chuckle. She grinned in response to it. "I admit, it...has seen better days," Fenris managed a small grin as well, reaching out and taking the bottle, downing a swig from it. "But the less it looks like it is populated, the less likely I'll draw too much attention to myself."

"Can't rightfully stay in a place you're 'borrowing' from your former master?" Hawke teased, still grinning at him.

"Technically, it's not even his," Fenris continued, taking another swig from the bottle before replacing it on the table. "It belonged to a merchant, who long-since abandoned it. Danarius was merely using it as a staging ground of sorts."

"To find you?" Roslyn asked with a tilt of her head.

"Exactly." Fenris gave an angry sigh, leaning forward on his chair and resting his forearms against his thighs. "I've wanted to leave my past behind me, but I doubt it will stay there. One way or another, Danarius will come for me and find me...and I will ensure that he  _ pays _ for all that he has done." He was hell-bent on revenge, it seemed; not that Roslyn blamed him for it. She'd probably want a literal slave-driver dead as much as the next gal did. But was there anything else in him?

Fenris grunted and looked up at her again. "You're from Ferelden, are you not?"

"That obvious?" She laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of her head.

"Your accent tells enough," Fenris confirmed, still looking at her intently. "You must have come here during the Blight, correct?"

"My mother was born here," Roslyn explained, "We came here hoping to find family - but all we got was a sleaze of a man I have to call 'uncle.'" She wrinkled her nose at the thought of Gamlen, wanting nothing more then to get this expedition over with so she could take her family out of that dirty hovel. She decided to leave the bit out about how they  _ should've _ been nobility - if Gamlen hadn't lost everything to slavers. Didn't want to touch that subject. "Why do you ask?"

"The Blight is over now," Fenris continued, "Tell me, why haven't you returned there? Especially if you are...unhappy with your family here."

"We could, but..." Roslyn's voice trailed off, looking away for a moment. "Lothering is gone. My father, sister - they're both gone, too. I have very little left except my mother and brother, and they both want to be here." Looking back up, she met the elf's careful gaze. " _ They're _ my home - and if they want to remain in Kirkwall, then this is where I'll stay. So, I have to find a way to make the best of it!" Sighing, she shook her head, "Though if Gamlen tries to swindle me out of money  _ one more time... _ I might have put a new coat of blood on the walls!"

To her surprise, that aroused a genuine laugh out of Fenris. She smiled at the sound, amazed that he actually knew  _ how _ to laugh. "You are a very strange human, Hawke."

Hawke shrugged, "If I had a copper for every time someone said that, I'd own half of Orlais by now!" Another chuckle came from him. She chuckled herself, leaning back in her chair, "But, what about you? Do you have a home to go to, once Danarius is gone?"

Fenris own smiled died, leaning back and glancing away from her. "...Perhaps." He said in a low aside, "I could return to Seheron, but...I feel nothing from that place, nor is there any life for me there."

"Are you from there?"

Fenris shrugged. "I am not sure. I've been told such, but I have no memory of it." His eyes flitted down to his markings, but left it at that. Roslyn could tell it was a sore subject, so she decided not to press it further, deciding to skirt around the issue. After all, she wanted to get enough on his good side to drag him around when Aveline couldn't help.

"You know, you  _ could _ do what I did," She suggested with a grin, "Find a new home here, in Kirkwall."

"Hnn," Fenris made a low mumble, lifting his eyes up to meet hers. For a long moment, he studied her, his eyes not drifting from her gaze. She noticed what pretty green eyes he had, but how much they hid pain, guilt and sorrow in them. Things to address at a later time, though. Still, she wondered what he was thinking about.

"...I could see myself staying," Fenris finally said, though his gaze had yet to waver. "For the right reasons, perhaps."

"Like, say, a certain sassy, red-haired mage who is trying to befriend you?" Roslyn suggested with a coy grin, strumming her fingers on the rests of the chair she sat in. To her surprise, his expression didn't sour at the mention of her being a mage, but a faint grin tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Perhaps." The grin faded a moment later, "Do not think I've forgotten that you are a mage, Hawke. It will take more then a few words to get me to...' _ befriend' _ you."

Roslyn wasn't taken aback by the comment, but spoke without missing a beat, "Just means I'll have to try all the more harder at it, Fenris." He grimaced a bit at the suggestion, but she had to take what she could get with him. Plus, the little grin showed that he probably  _ did _ want a friend, just not necessarily a mage, or even  _ her _ . But, she didn't seem to get on his nerves overmuch, as long as she didn't talk about mages or magic with him. She took it as a good sign.

Coughing, he glanced off to the side. "I...never really got around to properly thanking you," Fenris shifted in his chair, "I could not have stopped those hunters without your assistance." Looking back up, he returned her steady gaze. "Had I known Anso would find me a woman so capable, I might have asked him to look sooner."

"Fenris!" Roslyn cocked a teasing grin at him, "Are you  _ flirting _ with me?"

Fenris had reached out to his wine bottle and started to take a swig from it, and promptly choked on the liquid. "W-what?!" He exclaimed once it was down his throat, "N-no! I-I was just--"

Roslyn started laughing at his befuddled and embarrassed expression, causing him to flush - she wasn't sure if it was from more embarrassment or anger - and glare at her. "Relax, Fenris! I'm  _ just _ teasing you!" She chuckled, waving a dismissive hand at him. Though, she had to admit, a nice looking elf like him? There were worse things in the world...you know, once they got over the "ALL MAGES ARE EVIL!" hurdle.

Fenris scoffed and looked off to the side, hastily downing more of the wine to hide his flustered state. She gave him a few moments to relax before addressing the issue at hand. Hopefully, Roslyn buttered him up enough to get him to want to help her with her little...problem.

Well, not  _ her _ problem per-say, but if Javaris was willing to pay her, she'd consider it her problem. Damn her need of money!

"Anyway, I didn't come here just to chat," Hawke dropped her grin and uncrossed her legs, leaning forward a bit. "I've got a job I need done, and it's going to take a bit of muscle to do it."

That seemed to pique Fenris' interest, lowering his bottle down to and returning his gaze to hers. "Go on." He inquired.

"I've been commissioned by a dwarf named Javaris to...give him a hand with something," Roslyn continued, "He's got an appeal with the Arishok, or something along those lines. Wants him to get rid of a group of Tal-Vashoth, but he's not a fighter, so he hired me to do it." Fenris kept a cool and steady expression.

"The Arishok?" Fenris questioned, replacing the bottle back on the table. "I highly doubt he would appeal to a bas, or one outside of the Qun.  _ Especially _ dealing with Tal-Vashoth." Roslyn quirked a brow.

"Oh?" She inquired, tilting her head to the side. Fenris gave a small roll of his shoulders.

"I have had...dealings with the Qunari before," He explained, "Although I am by no means an expert, I know quite a deal about their culture and language. That is  _ not _ something the Arishok would do, not to my knowledge, at least." The other brow rose to join Roslyn's other, wondering what Javaris was on about, in that case. "Still, to be rid of Tal-Vashoth  _ would _ likely incite some kind of a reward from the Arishok. Perhaps it is still worth looking into." Rising to his feet, Fenris reached down and grabbed his chest plate, slinging the straps over his shoulders and attaching it to his form.

"So, you'll come?" Roslyn asked with a small grin, rising to her feet.

Fenris began to attach his gauntlets to his hands, briefly glancing up to meet her gaze.

"For whatever it is worth, you have me, Hawke."


	4. Fool's Gold

“...And we had a deal! You can’t back out on a deal!”

Roslyn rolled her eyes so hard they practically popped out of her head, trying her best not to groan at Javaris beside her.

Today hasn’t...been exactly pleasant. On top of traipsing about the Wounded Coast, she had to fight a veritable army of Tal-Vashoth. With just her, another mage, a dwarven marksmen and an elf with anger issues. Her skin felt crusty and burned, her body was sore from getting tossed around by the Qunari deserters, not to mention she  _ really _ wanted to know what those Qunari mages were on! Maker’s breath, they were like walking bombs!

And to put the icing on the cake, now the Arishok wasn’t going to deal with Javaris for the explosive powder, and the dwarf was practically throwing a hissy fit. To the leader of a race of giant super-soldiers.  _ Wonderful. _

“It’s a product, you  _ have _ to sell it! People want it!” The dwarf continued, pointing dramatically at the very-unamused Arishok. The leader of the Qunari sneered down at him.

“It is only to be dispensed to our enemies. In the  _ traditional _ manor.” Which, of course, meant causing their enemies to explode. Roslyn wanted  _ so bad _ to hit Javaris right now, but she didn’t want to do anything to tip off what was surely a pot waiting to boil. Given how displeased the Arishok looked right now, he could easily swoop down and hack their limbs off with that rather  _ impressive _ looking battle-axe.

“But we  _ had _ a  _ deal!! _ ” Javaris continued frantically, frothing at the mouth with anger. Roslyn could practically  _ feel _ her eyes going cross right now. The Arishok remained as impassive as he was before, though his sneer grew.

“...Do you want to shut him up, or should I?” She mumbled, more to her companions then anyone else.

“After you, Rosie.” Varric grumbled, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “Otherwise,  _ I’m _ going to hit him.”

The other Qunari surrounding them began to tense up, donning more battle-ready postures; their positioning became less open, ready to spring forth at a moment’s notice. Roslyn quickly picked up on it and set her jaw, looking anxiously back at Fenris, who was  _ literally _ the only person in their group who could stand up to a Qunari. And that was only because he cheated and could phase through them!

Fenris noticed the uneasy tension in the area and looked up towards the Arishok. “I humbly request an explanation of the Arishok,” He stated in a clear, direct voice, meeting the leader of the Qunari’s gaze, “As to why he is not honoring a deal.”

The sneer left the Arishok’s face. “Your company surprises me, Serah Hawke,” The displeasure in his voice was still there; honestly, Roslyn wasn’t sure if he was sitting on a spike at this point or not, “That one would  _ understand.  _ A  _ Tevinter _ , no less.” Obviously, he was picking up on Fenris’ very noticeable accent. “I will honor your request, Tevinter elf. I will not honor a deal that was not made. This dwarf concocted one of his own design, yet is wholly  _ unworthy _ of even considering a bargain with those of the Qun.”

Was that...a good thing? Roslyn had no idea, the Arishok still seemed as pissed off as ever.

“Then I humbly offer my deepest apologies on behalf of my companions,” Fenris gave a lowering of his head, casting down his gaze briefly. “We have misunderstood your intent.” Looking back up to the Arishok, he gestured towards Javaris. “Would you have us kill this dwarf for shaming the Qun?”

If she were drinking something right now, Roslyn would have spat it all over herself. She jerked her head back to Fenris, who was  _ completely serious _ . But, then again, Qunari weren’t exactly known for being cuddly, bunny-loving bringers of peace and rainbows. Javaris looked just about as shocked as she was, quickly jerking around towards Fenris, his eyes bugging out of his head and his jaw hitting the floor.

“What?! Y-you can’t--I--” He looked back frantically at the Arishok, falling down to his knees, “You can’t just...I-I mean, I--”

The Arishok sneered down at Javaris, before lifting his gaze to look at Fenris. “He is not worthy of your blades. Leave him to fester in his own filth.”

“Very well.” Fenris gave another incline of his head. Roslyn made a mental note to buy him a pint after this whole mess was over with.

“But...But I was  _ promised _ future investments!!” Javaris protested.

The Arishok narrowed his eyes. The Qunari soldiers around them gained battle-ready positions, only this time their focus was  _ solely _ on the annoying dwarf. Javaris stopped his yelling and blanched, swallowing hard in response. Roslyn felt uncomfortable just  _ standing _ there, even though she was no longer the focus of their ire.

“I think  _ leaving _ is best for your ‘future investments,’ Javaris.” She commented dryly down at him. The dwarf shot her a murderous glare, before turning on his heel and throwing his arms up in the air.

“Bunch of upstart doglords and oxmen!!” He hissed, and began to mutter incoherent obscenities under his breath while he stalked out of the compound.

The Arishok returned his attention back down towards Hawke and her group, his soldiers easing down. “You will leave as well, Hawke.” He more-or-less commanded, settling back down on his throne and placing his hands upon his knees. “There is nothing more for you here.”

Didn’t need to tell her twice.

Roslyn gave a slow nod of her head and also turned to leave. For once, she kept her damn mouth shut; sassing the leader of the Qunari was probably  _ not _ the smartest thing she could do right now. Plus, for the moment at least, she appeared to be somewhat in his good graces. Well, as “good” as they could get, all things considered. Merrill, Varric and Fenris followed after her, the Qunari slamming the doors shut to the compound behind them.

“...Well...” Varric grumbled, scratching the back of his head. “...That was  _ fun _ .”

\-----

“Andraste’s holy knickers, I hope I _ never _ have to do that again!” Hawke groaned, flomping down into a chair. She had dragged the entire group over to the Hanged Man for some unwinding - Fenris included - and they had quickly retreated to the dwarf’s privet suite. She sprawled her entire torso across the top of the carved table there, giving another groan. “I’m fairly certain my  _ bruises _ have bruises at this point!  _ Then _ there’s getting stared down by the damn Arishok...” She ran her hands down her face. “And worst of all:  _ we didn’t get paid _ . Maker’s blood...”

Merrill sunk into a chair as well, dropping her staff unceremoniously on the floor and leaning back. “Oh, goodness...that was  _ far _ more excitement then I would have liked today!”

“So says the girl who thought someone getting mugged outside her door was ‘exciting,’” Even though Hawke was snarking, her voice came out in a flat drawl, turning her head ever-so-slightly to meet the Dalish’s gaze. She flushed and tucked her chin into her scarf.

“Y-yes, well...” She mumbled, twisting her hands around themselves. “I...don’t really think fighting Qunari was an especially  _ good _ idea.” Merrill paused, “At least they’re easy on the eyes...?”

Hawke snorted and folded her arms over the top of the table, burying her face in them. “That’s about the  _ only _ thing that’s easy with them.” Her voice came out in a low groan, muffled by the existence of her arms. Merrill gave an uneasy chuckle at this, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“Nora, bring in a couple of pints of the best,” Varric informed the serving girl, before quickly closing the door once everyone was inside. Groaning, he rubbed his temples with his gloves. “Maker’s balls, Rosie, you  _ really _ know how to get yourself into trouble!”

“It’s a talent,” She grumbled with a shrug of her shoulders, her head still in the folds of her arms. “Much like my talent of juggling cats while singing Orlesian love-ballads.”

Fenris choked back a laugh at the comment. Hawke stated it so bluntly, so incredibly dead-pan it was hard  _ not _ to laugh at it. It certainly aroused a chuckle from Varric and a less-uncomfortable laugh from Merrill, who politely stifled her giggles with the back of her hand. If he could only say one thing about the small human, it was that she knew how to lighten the mood with an off-color comment.

“Now, where do you get the cats from? Blondie?” Varric chuckled, taking his seat at the head of the table.

Hawke lifted her head up and looked over at him. “Only the  _ crazy _ ones.” Varric chuckled again and leaned back in his chair, actually managing to kick his feet up onto the table to relax.

“Well, I have to admit: It’s certainly not  _ boring _ with you around, Rosie.” Hawke gave a snort and a shrug at the comment, rising up onto her elbows and glancing over towards where Fenris stood awkwardly.

After all, he wasn’t sure  _ why _ she dragged him to the bar. Sure, it was an exceedingly trying day, what with he being the only one physically capable of facing down the Qunari. And knowing enough of their culture to be able to save everyone’s hides from the wrath of the Arishok. He hardly knew any of them - Hawke included - but she had insisted. In the very little time Fenris knew her, it was fairly clear the red-haired human was incredibly stubborn and  _ very _ convincing when attempting to argue over something.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, honestly.

“Well, are you just going to stand there and  _ brood _ , or are you going to sit down?” Hawke inquired lazily, gesturing to one of the seats across from where he stood.

Fenris pursed his lips together. “I’m not  _ brooding _ .”

Varric laughed shortly, “Elf, if you were any  _ more _ broody then you are now, women would swoon as you walk past!” He gave a flourish of his hands, before pressing the backside of one of said hands to his forehead in a fake-swoon. “They’d be throwing themselves at you, to have babies in your broody honor!”

Fenris slowly raised an eyebrow at Varric. “...You are a very odd dwarf.”

“Eh, it’s a living,” Varric lowered his hand and smirked over at Fenris.

“Now, Varric,” Hawke cut in, lowering one hand to the table and propping her narrow chin in her hand, “Even if Fenris  _ wasn’t _ brooding, all he would have to do is open his mouth,” She looked back over at him, a playful smirk working it’s way across her tired and slightly sunburnt features, “That voice  _ alone _ will make women’s smallclothes burst into flame!”

Fenris was taken aback by the comment.

He honestly didn’t know enough about Hawke to really measure if she was joking or being  _ completely serious _ . While she did take even the most dire of situations far too...light-heartedly, he had to admit: she was hard to read. Whether it was due to the fact that the petite human was dog-tired both of the times she flirted with him or not left things a bit in the dark.

Plus Fenris had never  _ genuinely _ been flirted with before. Well, maybe he had, he just never noticed and it was never so  _ blatant _ .

It left him baffled and confused.

Hawke seemed to be amused by his stunned response, chuckling and cupping her chin in both of her hands, grinning up at him. “So! If you’re quite done  _ brooding _ , pull up a chair.”

The ire quickly returned. “I’m not--” Fenris felt the scrutinizing gaze of his three odd companions - if he could even call them that - and let loose a low, defeated groan. He unbuckled his holster for his sheath and leaned it against the side of the chair, and slid into it, across from Hawke and Merrill. Even though he was seated, he still felt their gaze and remained stiff and ridged.

“What? Did you sit on a pine-cone or something?” Hawke quipped with a raise of one of her brows. Fenris blinked at the odd comment. Merrill stifled a giggle. “You’re just as tense as ever! Loosen up a bit, Fenris.”

The muscles of Fenris’ jaw tightened. “...Why should I?”

Hawke blinked her green-blue eyes, tilting her head slightly in her hands. “...Err, because you’re in good company?” Fenris snorted in response, but said nothing more. “And there will be good drink soon!” She tried to enthuse, but quickly wrinkled her nose when she remembered  _ where _ they were. “...Actually, never mind that part. The ale here is only ‘good’ after you’ve had five pints.”

Surprisingly, Fenris found his throat rumbling in a low chuckle.

It was odd. He hadn’t laughed since...well, he  _ honestly _ couldn’t remember the last time he laughed. Now, in the short time he knew Hawke, she had aroused several chuckles from him. It almost  _ hurt _ to do so, deep in his throat and sore vocal cords, and he had almost completely forgotten how. What an odd human...

“Hey, I happen to  _ like _ the ale they serve here!” Varric interjected, though his own gravely voice was choking back a chuckle.

“That’s because you’re a dwarf, Varric. You’ll drink  _ anything _ that has any amount of alcohol, and will think it’s Maker-sent!” Hawke continued, twirling an index finger lazily about in the air. Varric, unable to hide his amusement, gave a short, loud laugh at the comment.

“Ain’t that the truth, Rosie!” He shook his head. Merrill joined in on the laughter, the three of them acting very much like old friends. Fenris felt like the odd one out, but Hawke turned towards him and grinned, trying to include him in whatever joke was. Honestly, he didn’t get it; but she was trying. Why was beyond him.

After all, she was a  _ mage _ , the very thing he despised the most. And she knew it.

The door suddenly burst open as the bar maid came in with a tray full of tankards. “Come ‘n get your drinks!” She announced.

“About damn time!” Varric laughed.

\-----

Things began to fall into a pattern at that point.

Well, things were  _ usually _ in a pattern when it came to Roslyn and her shenanigans to gain enough money to partner with the Tethras brothers. Varric found work for them, they beat up some mercenaries, collect the payment and scamper on home. Carver took on extra jobs with the Red Irons and returned with the extra earnings on the side. Lather, rinse, repeat.

While Carver and Aveline were both working and not always available, Roslyn had discovered that Fenris seemed to be willing to come out with them. Why was beyond her, maybe he was bored. What  _ did _ he do in that giant mansion every day, huh? Musings of free time aside, she had begun to take him along on most of her adventures, primarily because he was damn good at what he did: killing people. And 99% of any job she took often involved killing someone or some _ thing _ .

Granted, he got into arguments with Merrill and Anders quite often about magic -  _ especially  _ Anders. Maker’s breath, why  _ did _ she bring Anders along on that weird, horrible mission given by that super sketchy Sister with a Qunari mage? Ugh.  _ That _ was another fun one. Why was it that most of Hawke’s jobs ended up involving mages, Templars, or the Qunari? Or in that case,  _ all of the above _ . Maker’s balls...

She had to make a mental note not to bring Anders along on any job that she also brought Fenris with. She needed the city  _ whole _ , thank-you-very-much. Having a possessed mage facing down with an elf with Lyrium  _ in his skin _ was likely to have explosive consequences. Ugh.

Once it was all done, she’d drag the group back to the Hanged Man for much unwinding. Thankfully, Varric was more then willing to put the group on his tab, especially since he knew Roslyn was saving her money for the expedition. Not that she actually  _ drank _ mind you; she’d rather drink sewer water then the stuff they called “alcohol” there.

Today was no exception.

“Andraste’s sanctified girdle! Remind me to  _ not _ take any more jobs that involve Templars.” Roslyn groaned while the group was dragging themselves back to the pub.

“To be fair, there were more  _ slavers _ then Templars, Roz,” Carver reminded dryly.

“ _ Details! _ ” She gave a dismissing wave to her brother, “We still worked with them, though we spent most of our time killing slavers.”

“ _ One _ Templar hardly counts,” Caver gave another disgruntled grumble, “And we didn’t even talk to him that much...”

“At least he was friendly?” Merrill offered with a tilt of her head, looking the least-tired of the group. “I can’t imagine what that poor man must be going through, losing his daughter like that...”

Roslyn sighed. This was another messy mission they went on. Tracking down an elf-blooded human who, apparently, had a  _ very  _ strong connection to the Fade. She hadn’t seen or felt anything like it before, frankly. Well, besides Anders, but he cheated. Not only was the apostate merely a  _ child _ , but he had been sent to slavers when he sought refuge from the Circle.

Although Roslyn was an apostate herself, she knew the Circle was necessary in some cases. But with Feynriel...she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t rightly send him to the place he was terrified of - rightly so, the Gallows were  _ terrible _ \- but the magic she sensed in him...

Still, she had opted that perhaps the Dalish was the best place for him to go. Merrill seemed to agree, anyway. Plus, with how powerful the boy’s magic was...yeah, it wouldn’t be pretty for him at the Gallows. Thankfully Fenris didn’t object to this vocally, probably killing all of those slavers had left him in a fairly good mood. At least, she hoped.

“She made her choice, and it was the  _ wrong _ one.”

And there went the moment.

Roslyn groaned and cast a sideways glance at the two elves, Merrill looking just  _ shocked _ at Fenris’ curt response, the ex-slave not even looking at her.

“Maker’s balls, here we go again...” Caver also groaned, running his hand down his face. “How far until the tavern?”

“Not close enough, apparently.” Hawke sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“T-that’s not fair, Fenris!” Merrill’s voice squeaked like it did whenever she was upset, “The poor girl was cornered and afraid! What else could she--”

“Not given herself to a  _ demon _ , that’s what,” Fenris scoffed, still not looking at her. “Those men were no Templars, she could have used her  _ magic _ to escape, or even wait for us to strike!”

Merrill pursed her lips, “I know turning to spirits isn’t always the answer--”

“When  _ is _ it ever the answer?” Fenris snapped, glaring over at her.

“C-can’t you at  _ least _ feel sorry for her poor father?” Merrill’s voice lowered, tucking her chin into her scarf.

“No. She chose her fate by succumbing to the demon.”

“But--”

“Such  _ lovely _ weather out today, isn’t it?” Hawke dropped back and looped her arms around the two arguing elves shoulders, pulling them both into awkward hugs. Merrill promptly flushed and laughed awkwardly, while Fenris immediately tensed up under her touch. “Why, I might even be able to convince Varric to open the windows in his suite! How about a few pints under that fine sun and--”

The cry of Lyrium suddenly filled her ears, her gaze shot towards Fenris. His markings had suddenly burst to life, and he quickly shrugged her arm off his shoulders and slid away from her. Once she was no longer touching him, the Lyrium died down and his marks stopped glowing. Roslyn blinked her eyes and tilted her head to the side.

“Fenris?”

His jaw set. “...Don’t touch me like that.” He grumbled in an aside, rapidly averting his gaze down and away from her.

Come to think of it, it was the first time she had touched his bare skin - namely, around his neck - and she had opted not to wear long sleeves for once. Roslyn’s gaze softened. Did his markings react to the magic in her? Did it cause him actual  _ pain _ when she touched him like that? Damn...

“Fenris, I didn’t--”

“Well, what do you know! The Hanged Man!” Carver interrupted, trying  _ so hard _ to make things less awkward. It came off as being  _ more _ awkward though, Roslyn chuckling at her towering younger brother. “Let’s all go inside and unwind for a bit, yeah?”

“Why, what a  _ splendid _ idea, Carver!” Roslyn dragged Merrill with her over to her brother, hooking her now-free arm with Carver’s burly one. “Best idea I’ve heard out of you yet!”

He grunted. “...Thank you for the vote of confidence, Roz.” He grumbled dryly, his shoulders drooping.

The group entered into the pub - Fenris not far behind, Hawke having realized by now that he quite enjoyed his drink - Merrill excitedly chattering about how she hoped Varric was in to tell one of his  _ extravagant  _ stories. They didn’t make it too far when they noticed a commotion by the bar.

“Pay up, bitch!”

A group of thugs surrounded a Rivaini woman wearing...well, what Roslyn could  _ assume _ were clothes, not that they covered much. Certainly liked her impossibly long boots, though! The woman rolled her eyes and took a swig of her drink.

“I’ll tell you what, Lucky,” The woman snarked, “Since the information you gave me is worth  _ nothing _ , that’s  _ exactly _ what I’ll pay you.” She went to down another gulp, but the leader of the thugs grabbed the drink from her hand and chucked it across the room.

“You owe me, Isabela!”

“Should we help?” Merrill suggested sheepishly.

“Naw, she’s got this.” Roslyn noted, crossing her arms. Although the Rivaini woman wasn’t wearing much, she  _ did _ have some daggers strapped to her, and she also noticed the muscle definition and the lack of openings in the sitting posture. Plus the woman’s  _ so done with this bullshit _ face.

“Really now?” The woman continued, gaining a sickingly sweet tone to her voice, leaning up towards the thug. “What  _ ever _ shall I do in return, you poor, sweet thing...?” While she was buttering the thug leader up, the Rivaini’s hand came out and grabbed the back of his head, suddenly slamming it down hard on the bar. The leader let out a cry and fell backwards into a table and chair, while another came from behind her and grabbed her around the waist.

Grunting, she thrust her head back and hit him hard enough in the nose for him to release her. Spinning quickly on her heel, she quickly jabbed him in the jaw, then kneed him in the gut, causing him to fall down in pain. With another whip around, she socked the third thug across each cheek, then followed it up with an upper-cut to his chin. By now, the thug leader was getting up to his feet and struggling for his sword.

The Rivaini turned and drew her dagger, gently resting the blade right against his throat. She narrowed her light brown eyes at him.

“Tell me, Lucky, is this worth dying for?”

The thug leader gulped and nervously shook his head, dropping his sword. The woman smirked and lowered her dagger, allowing the thug leader and his goonies to stagger out of the Inn. Returning her dagger to it’s sheath, she took her place at the bar and leaned back against it.

“ _ Thought _ not.” She chuckled, the people in the bar quickly returning to what they were doing previously, while her eyes swept the tavern, quickly landing on Hawke and her company.

“Well, that was certainly exciting!” Merrill chirped, her large eyes wide with awe.

Taking another bottle from the bartender, the Rivaini took a swig from it before pushing off of the bar and strutting -  _ literally strutting _ \- towards them. Roslyn noticed Carver tense up beside her, but she jabbed him in the sides with her elbow.

“I don’t think she wants to imprint the table with your face,” She offered in a low voice, only getting a scoff from her brother. “Not that she could  _ reach _ your face anyway.”

Carver grimaced. “Haha, very funny Roz.” He muttered dryly.

“I  _ do _ try!”

By now, the Rivaini woman had reached them, crossing her arms under her very... _ impressive _ bust. “So, you must be Hawke.”

Hawke cocked a sideways grin up at her. “I see my reputation proceeds me!”

The Rivaini woman chuckled, “The dwarf that lives here  _ loves _ to spin all manor of stories about you. Not to mention half of Lowtown,” She tilted her head to the side, her eyes giving Roslyn a slow once-over. “Though I  _ did _ expect you to be taller.”

“Carver here got all of  _ that _ ,” She jabbed her brother in the sides again, receiving a low grunt and a glare in response. “Sorry to be a disappointment!”

“Not at all,” A grin came to the Rivaini’s lips, “You’re much, much  _ more _ then I expected.” Her voice turned flirtatious with the comment, her eyes becoming heavy-lidded when she looked right into Roslyn’s. Well, being hit on by another attractive woman wasn’t all  _ that _ bad, even if it was a first. “Anyway, keep your wits about you. You’ll be nothing but tits and ass to the men in this place! And don’t think they won’t hesitate to grab at  _ both _ .”

Roslyn chuckled. “I think my brother here works as a  _ nice _ deterrent.”

“Anyone grabs your ass, Roz, and they won’t have any hands  _ left _ .” Carver gave a disgruntled grunt, narrowing his eyes at half of the men in the tavern. The Rivaini laughed, flashing a flirtatious grin up at him.

“Such a big, strong man you are! I can hardly imagine why  _ anyone _ would dare touch your sister,” She teased, Carver noticeably flushing at the comment and giving a low cough, averting his gaze. “Anyway, I’m Isabela. I’d say  _ Captain _ Isabela, but without my ship the term rings a bit...hollow.” She gave a low bow at her waist, showing off even more of her impressive cleavage.

“Roslyn Hawke, even though I’m  _ sure _ you knew that already.” Hawke grinned, giving an incline of her head, “The big one is my brother, Carver. The broody one is Fenris--”

“I am  _ not _ brooding.” Fenris muttered from behind her, she turned her head over her shoulder to smirk at him.

“ _ Sure _ you’re not, Fenris.” He snorted at her comment, Roslyn turning her attention back to Isabela, “And this is Merrill.”

Merrill smiled brightly up at Isabela. “That fight was very exciting! How did you get to be so good?”

“A pleasure,” Isabela grinned a charming smile down at the Dalish elf. “Thank you, I specialize in dueling, kitten. I just so  _ love _ bringing men down to their knees - both in a fight  _ and _ in bed.” Even Roslyn felt herself flush at the comment, noticing Merrill turn bright red and tuck her chin into her scarf. “It brings a great amount of satisfaction, wouldn’t you agree?” She cast a sideways glance over at Roslyn, who just laughed awkwardly.

“Can’t say I share that experience...well, from the  _ bed _ standpoint.”

Isabela cocked her head to the side, “Oh, really? A pretty thing like you...?” She chuckled and tucked her fingers under Roslyn’s chin, tilting it up, “If you’d like, I  _ could _ remedy that...” Her voice came out as a seductive purr.

It wasn’t every day Hawke felt her cheeks burn. Aside from the sun, that is.  _ Okay, this is new... _ She hadn’t ever had anyone so  _ obviously _ hit on her before. Sure, she had a few drunkards and many others tried to woo her, but this was a blatant invitation to sleep with a woman she  _ just _ met about two minutes ago!

“Okay, back off!” Carver suddenly filled the space between Isabela and Hawke, shoving the Rivaini woman away. “I’d prefer it if you  _ didn’t _ flirt with my sister, thank you!”

“Oh, you poor thing!” Isabela’s voice cooed from the other side of him, “Would you rather  _ I _ flirt with  _ you _ instead, big boy?”

“Erm...” Caver suddenly lost his nerve, Roslyn noticed his ears turning red and his shoulders slouching.

“Well, she’s certainly...forward?” Fenris noted from behind Hawke.

“How very  _ observant _ of you, Fenris,” She chuckled, crossing her arms and peering out from behind her lug of a brother. “Anyway, was there something you wanted from us, Isabela?”  _ Besides wanting to bed all of us in turn, or all together... _

Isabela quickly lost her flirtatious gaze, “Ah, right. There  _ was _ something, now that you mention it!” She laughed and tilted her head to the side “Sorry, I do tend to get carried away when I see beautiful people.” She leaned against one of the pillars in the tavern, folding her arms under her chest again. “Anyway, I’ve heard you get shite done, Hawke. I was wondering if you could help me with a little problem I’ve been having.”

Roslyn made a melodramatic sigh, “Why not? Everyone  _ else _ wants my help with their issues!” She grinned over at Isabela, who chuckled at her.

“Only because you’re so  _ good _ at it,” Isabela shrugged her shoulders at the comment, “Plus I hear you like money, and I can pay you.”

“I’m in.”

Isabela smirked at her, “What? You don’t want to know what it is I need help with first?”

“I’ll have you know: I won’t do anything with animals or children. And preferably  _ not _ involving Templars, mages or the Qunari.” Roslyn counted on her fingers for clauses to not get involved, Isabela shifting slightly against the pillar at the mention of Qunari. “Otherwise, if you give me silver or gold, I’ll help you.”

“Nice to know we’re so easily bought,” Carver grumbled sarcastically.

“Says the  _ mercenary _ ,” Hawke countered with a smirk, causing him to grunt in response.

“Well, lucky for you! It has nothing to do with  _ any _ of those,” Isabela continued with a grin, “I challenged a raider named Hayder to a duel, tonight in Hightown.” She pushed off of the pillar and glanced briefly off to the side before meeting Hawke’s gaze again, “He keeps pestering me about something, and if I win this duel, he’ll leave me alone. But...I don’t expect him to play fair.”

Hawke sighed, “Of  _ course _ you don’t,” She shook her head, “So you want us to give you a little back up if he decides to fight dirty, right?”

“Bingo,” Isabela smirked, “I like you already, Hawke. You catch on quickly.”

“Not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing,” Carver muttered incredulously, narrowing his eyes at Isabela. She either didn’t hear his side comment or pretended not to notice.

“Anyway, meet me in the courtyard before the stairs leading up to the Viscount’s Keep,” Isabela pushed off of the pillar and strode past Roslyn and her companions, “Once Hayder is dealt with, I’ll be sure to give you that payment I promised~” With a wave, she cast another flirtatious smirk over her shoulder, before sauntering up the stairs at the back of the tavern.

“My goodness, Hawke!” Merrill chirped enthusiastically, “You certainly do meet the most _ interesting _ of people!”


	5. Venturing Forth

“What in the  _ void _ is it with you and killing people inside the Chantry? At  _ night? _ ”

After another... _ exciting _ nighttime adventure, the group staggered out of the Chantry, hoping that no one noticed them leave. And praying that the Sisters inside would be able to take care of the copious amount of corpses littering the place.

Hawke heaved an exasperated sigh at Varric’s comment, “It’s not  _ my _ fault everyone goes to the Chantry to be murdered! Especially to be murdered by  _ me _ .”

“Heh, you’re telling me!” The dwarf chuckled, “I mean, really? What  _ is _ it with people and going to the Chantry for death?” Hawke gave a casual shrug of her shoulders, glancing back at the towering visage now that they were well out of range of being caught by any stray Sisters. Or guardsman. Varric was thankful that the soon-to-be Guard-Captain was an old friend of Rosie’s, otherwise he was pretty sure they’d all be arrested by now. Several times over. Or executed, for that matter.

“Beats me,” The red-haired human sighed again, rubbing the back of her neck, “It’s like the place for peace, worship and understanding just screams, ‘Oooh, let’s all go there and murder someone in the face!’” She flashed a grin down at Varric, “Makes _ total _ sense, right?” He chocked back a laugh at the comment, remembering that it was past midnight. And Hightown was full of uppity snoots and more pick-pockets then he could shake off with Bianca.

“I, uh...sorry for getting you involved in that mess,” Isabela piped in awkwardly from the back of the group, her amber eyes glancing down. Hawke stopped walking forward and turned on her heel, putting her hands on her hips.

“Really, Isabela!” She gave a melodramatic sigh, “By our banter, you should be  _ aware _ we’ve done this before.”

Carver gave a short grunt, “Not that we had any  _ choice _ last time.” He grumbled.

Isabela met Hawke’s gaze, “You certainly do find yourself in all sorts of trouble, don’t you?” The pirate-queen cocked a sly grin at the shorter woman.

“It’s just status quo. ” Hawke gave a dismissive wave of her hand, “Trouble and me go hand-in-hand. Much like Dwarves and their fetish for killing people over trade deals.”

This time, Varric laughed. “Andraste’s  _ tits _ , Hawke!!” He bellowed, nearly doubled over in laughter. “If that wasn’t so damn true, I’d hit you!” She only smiled down at him. Carver groaned at his sister’s offensive humor.

“Anyway, thanks for the help!” Isabela was also chuckling. “Here’s the payment, as promised.” She handed Hawke a sack with coin in it, the latter eagerly taking it and grinning up at her. “I think I’ll stick around for a little while, tag along with you! Certainly doesn’t seem  _ boring _ around you, Hawke.”

“It never is.” Carver muttered under his breath. Both Isabela and Hawke ignored him.

“Just you wait, we’ll soon be fighting Abomination pirates on the coastline!” Hawke chuckled, placing her hands on her hips again. Isabela laughed as well, shaking her head at the humor...and likely believing it, Varric noted. He’d need to have to include that tidbit in one of the tall tales he had begun to spin about the Rose Hawk.

“I’ll hold you to it, Hawke,” Isabela’s chuckle turned darker, sauntering over to the other woman, “And I  _ do _ have a room at the Hanged Man if you’d like to take me up on my little... _ offer _ later.” She winked at Hawke and strode past her.

Even in the dim light of the moon overhead, Varric could see Rosie turn  _ almost _ as red as her hair with that comment.

“I...uh...” For once, Hawke was at a loss for words. She watched, practically dumbfounded and red as a blood mage’s arm while Isabela strutted away, vanishing down one of the roads that lead to Lowtown. Well, that was...not something Varric expected to happen.

It was certainly  _ interesting _ , however.

“...What in the Maker’s balls just  _ happened _ ?” Came Carver’s crude response.

\-----

It was a quiet day in the Chantry.

Well,  _ today _ it was. There was some kind of commotion a few nights ago, and when someone finally got up to investigate it, they found about a dozen corpses in the nave. And no hints as to who had killed those unfortunate souls. The Sisters and few Brothers had scrambled to get the bodies cleared out - once the Guard was notified, of course - and get it cleaned up before the public could walk in and ask about the blood stains. This was the second time in almost two months!

Odd, how this kept on happening...Kirkwall was a confounding and  _ terrifying _ place sometimes.

Sighing, Brother Sebastian Vael shook his head. He tried not to dwell on this, but it was hard. One couldn’t just simply  _ ignore _ that people seemed intent on murdering others in the Chantry! But, he had to focus elsewhere. He had his duties, of course; but he also found himself otherwise  _ occupied _ . After all, it was only a few days since he had made the posting on the Chanter’s board, and had quite the argument with the Grand Cleric.

He still needed to get her to see eye-to-eye with him.

Sighing and trying to keep his mind from wandering too far into the depths of depravity, he walked through the transept, heading towards the alter. The Grand Cleric was almost always there for consultations for the Faithful, and gave regular sermons at least once a day, with other Sisters and Mothers giving additional lectures day-to-day. Sebastian had to convince her that this was the right course of action! Surely she would understand if she was in his position, wouldn’t she?

Rounding the flight of stairs, Sebastian went to open his mouth to speak to her, but stopped short once he crossed the top step. A family was there with the Grand Cleric. She was giving upon them blessings and prayers - from the sounds of it, prayers for the  _ departed _ \- and they knelt before her in silence.

Strange, Sebastian didn’t recognize them. It was hard to miss an entire family of red-heads; even the mother, with her fading strawberry blonde hair stood out amongst the others in the chantry. Especially when the male child was a brooding hulk of a man who looked  _ incredibly _ uncomfortable right now. He looked like he was ready to bolt at any moment.

But, hearing the rites and respect for the departed, Sebastian kept his distance. He didn’t want to disturb the family, who appeared to be grieving. It wasn’t a funeral, so it couldn’t have been a recent death. Remembrance, or an anniversary? He wasn’t sure, and intruding would be frowned upon in this solemn time.

“...So let it be.”

The Grand Cleric lowered her hand. The ginger-haired man rose first, giving a small pop of his neck and an awkward incline of his head to Elthina.The young woman - Sebastian noticed her hair was considerably darker then the other two, but still had a red sheen to it - gently placed a hand on the mother’s shoulder. She said something quietly, the graying woman giving a small nod of her head. The dark-haired woman eased her to her feet. Sebastian noticed the older woman had tears in her brown eyes, and she embraced the young woman and beckoned for the young man. He awkwardly entered into her embrace.

“I know he’s watching over us, mother.” The young woman said, her voice strained. The woman gave a muffled sob, but nodded her head. “Him and Bethany both.”

“I...I-I know.” The mother choked, tightening her hold on her children.

“The Maker watches over His children, Leandra.” Grand Cleric Elthina said reassuringly, her voice filled with gentle confidence. “Do not grieve, for Malcolm and Bethany are beloved and protected under His care.” The mother, Leandra, gave a sniff and nodded her head rapidly, giving her children a squeeze before releasing them.

“Th-thank you, Elthina,” Leandra wiped her eyes with her hands, dabbing the tears away. The Grand Cleric gave an incline of her head and a kind smile. The other woman mirrored it, albeit sadly, and turned and began to walk off.

Sebastian stood off to the side to allow the family to pass. He quietly studied them while they approached. It was clear the hulking son didn’t get his height from Leandra, she was as short as the young woman. The young woman also had much sharper looks and a different eye color then both of them. Must have gotten it from her father’s side. The young woman walked with her arm still around her mother’s shoulder, however her green-blue eyes looked up and noticed him standing there.

Turning her head back, she addressed her brother, “Carver, can you walk mother home?”

He made a face. “What?  _ Why? _ ” He looked almost... _ aghast _ at the notion.

“I...have to wrap something up.” She said quietly. The young man, Carver, rolled his eyes and replaced his arm with his sister’s - Sebastian couldn’t tell who was older, honestly. Leandra gave a weary look at the young lady, who only responded with a short nod. Sighing, Leandra nodded her head as well.

“Don’t be too late, my dear.” Even though her words were scolding, her voice was still weak and strained from the rite. The young woman managed a sad, almost  _ distant _ smile.

“I won’t be long.”

And, with that, the two red-haired family members strode past Sebastian. He quietly watched them go, then turned his attention back around. The young woman approached him and stopped before him. Now that she was closer, he could see her eyes were almost... _ glossy _ . Like she was stubbornly refusing to let any tears fall. Faint lines ran under her eyes, showing how weary and tired she was.

He knew that look. He had seen it in himself in the mirror many times these past few weeks.

“Sebastian Vael?”

Snapping out of his daze, Sebastian managed a small smile down at the heart-heavy woman before him. “Yes, what can I do for you?”

She sniffled and shifted her weight, casting her gaze aside. “I...had hoped to talk to you another day, but...” She reached a hand up and scratched the back of her head. “Well, I’m here now, so...”

“Take your time,” He encouraged, feeling his own heart pang at her mannerisms. Sebastian knew them, too. But, he hid it under a mask of kindness, not wanting to pressure this woman who had obviously lost someone very dear to her.  _ Two _ people, judging from the names the Grand Cleric had mentioned to Leandra.

Taking a deep breath, she let out a low sigh. “...I found the mercenaries,” The woman continued, lifting her gaze up to meet his, though her head still was turned away. “F-from your posting, that is. I’ve dealt with them.”

“My...?” Sebastian’s voice trailed off, for an instant forgetting what was going on. It took a second before it clicked, his eyes going wide. He looked past the woman briefly to where Elthina was working on her next sermon, then back down. “On the Chanter’s board?”

“Yeah.” Came the flat, almost distant response.

“The Grand Cleric kept that?!” He exclaimed, his eyes still wide. Thankfully, he was far enough away for Elthina not to hear. Or, if she did, she didn’t react. “I can’t believe--and you said you found them?  _ All _ of them?”

The woman nodded. “Killed the last group of the Flint Company yesterday,” She informed, giving a small shrug of her shoulders. “So, uh...you don’t need to worry. Your family is avenged.”

Suddenly, the weight on his shoulders began to lift.

It had only been a few weeks since Sebastian found out his entire  _ family _ had been butchered. Someone had hired a group of elite mercenaries, known as Flint Company, to do away with the Vael family. All that remained were himself and some cousins nobody cared about. He still has no idea who hired the mercenary group, but at least that was one less thing for him to fret about.

But to think, the Grand Cleric kept his posting on the Chanter’s board, after arguing with him about it...

“You have my gratitude, Serah,” Sebastian breathed out the tense breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. “I had not thought anyone would have seen the posting, let alone care about this cause.”

The woman met his gaze again. “...I...know what it’s like to lose family.” Her voice was distant. Although she was looking at him, her green-blue eyes were elsewhere. Seeing past him, beyond. As if the ghosts of her own family were standing there, watching over her. Another sniff, and she wiped the corner of one of her eyes when one of the tears tried to escape from her eyes. Sebastian was about to offer her condolences, but her eyes focused on him again.

“That, and I like being paid.”

The woman managed a forced smile, her voice cracking with the jest. It was a way to hide her pain behind a mask, and it wasn’t working. Still, Sebastian knew he shouldn’t question it. After all, he didn’t even know this young lady’s name yet.

“I think I understand how you feel, Serah.” He gave her a sympathetic look. With some hesitation, he reached out and put a consoling hand on her shoulder. She didn’t recoil from the gesture, or shrug his hand off. Instead, she managed a more genuine, less forced smile.

“And  _ I _ think I should be the one consoling  _ you _ , not the other way around.” The quip came out much more naturally, but the sadness was still lingering in the back of her throat. “You just lost your family not long ago, after all. My father died four years ago today, and my sister...a little over a year ago.” The pain twinged in the back of her throat, but she shook it off as best she could, raising her eyes to meet his gaze.

So that was who it was she was praying for. Her father. Still, it couldn’t have been easy...

“It doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt,” Sebastian offered with another pained smile, remembering his own guilt and suffering. “After all, I haven’t been home to Starkhaven in nearly a decade. Yet, I can still feel the sting...”

The woman managed a hollow chuckle, “We’re quite the pair, huh? Wallowing in our misery.” She sniffed once more, trying to keep her resolve up. “But, at least you can rest easier now, right?”

“And I cannot thank you enough.” Sebastian gave a nod of his head, removing the hand from her shoulder. “And it would be appreciated if I knew the name of the one who assisted me.”

“Roslyn Hawke.”

Sebastian blinked a few times. He recognized that name - people around Kirkwall whispered and gossiped about her. A freelance mercenary known as the Rose Hawk. There were all  _ sorts _ of odd, colorful - and largely fantasied - stories about her. With growing frequency. And they all seemed to originate from Lowtown...

Still, he was glad for the assistance. Especially with what  _ could _ be legitimate claims of her expert reliability. “Thank you, Mistress Hawke.”

A short laugh, “That’s my  _ mother _ , don’t call me that!” He wasn’t sure if she was teasing or being serious, honestly. “But yeah, you’re quite welcome  _ Master Vael. _ ” Okay,  _ now _ he was certain she was joking. Sebastian couldn’t help the small chuckle.

“And here is your reward, as promised.” Reaching into his belt, he withdrew a bag of gold. He usually held onto some coin to give for alms as he wandered about the City-State, but this? Sebastian saved it just in case someone did take up the bounty posting he made on the Chanter’s board. And he was just so thankful that someone did. Someone like her, who understood what he was going through.

Hawke readily took it with an uneasy smile. “Thanks.”

“I would also appreciate assistance in the future, Serah Hawke,” Sebastian was cautious not to address her as ‘mistress’ again, “Once I discover who hired the Flint Company to perform this foul deed.”

“And I will be glad to help,  _ Serah  _ Vael,” Hawke mirrored his statement with a sardonic grin, her tone becoming a bit lighter. “If you ever need to find me, you can ask any of the guards.” She paused when she realized how bad that sounded, quirking a brow, “Err, I have a friend. There. In the guards, I mean. She likes to follow me, make sure I’m not-- you know what? Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

Sebastian laughed. Possibly the first laugh he had since he heard the news about the murder of his family. “You’re quite the interesting one, Hawke.”

“As if half of Kirkwall can’t say the same,” Hawke responded without missing a beat. “B-but I...really should be going. The last thing my mother needs today is to worry about me.”

“Of course,” Sebastian said with a small incline of his head, “Thank you again for your help, Hawke. I’m sure a woman of your repute will not be hard to find, should I need your aid.”

She rolled her eyes.

“It’s  _ so hard _ being famous, isn’t it?”

\-----

Varric jerked his head up from his work when a loud “thunk” resonated across his suite. A leather coin purse had been tossed onto the table before him, his brows arching up at the sudden appearance.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, he spotted the haughty pair of Hawke siblings across the way. Roslyn stood with her arms crossed, wearing her usual trademark smirk; though it was more playful then usual. Even Carver was full of less piss-and-vinegar then he usually was, his chest puffed out and grinning triumphantly.

“It’s all there.” Rosie pointed towards the large coin purse. “All fifty Sovereigns!”

Varric once again raised his brows, sliding his glasses off and reaching for the bag. “You’re kidding me!” He exclaimed, picking it up and tossing it in the air, feeling it’s hefty weight. He caught it firmly in his hands and weighed it again, impressed by how heavy the burden of gold was.

“Believe me, this time she’s  _ not _ joking.” Carver commented, his tone unusually light. Varric gave a short chuckle, opening the purse and poking around in it.

“Well, I’ll be, Rosie!” He whistled, impressed by the amount of gold in there.

“Oh Varric! I’m  _ hurt _ .” Rosie faked a pout, “And here I thought you had faith in me!”

Varric chuckled again, raising his eyes up to meet hers. “Oh, but I do!” He assured with a sly grin, “I just wasn’t expecting you to get it all together so  _ soon _ .”

Hawke rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t call six months ‘ _ soon _ .’” She gave a disgruntled mumble, putting her hands on her hips. “At the rate we were going, I’m genuinely surprised your brother didn’t just up and leave us all behind!”

“Pfft!” Varric gave a snort, “I told you already, Rosie! Bartrend can’t be bothered to do the  _ real _ work to get this blasted expedition off of the ground.” Really, he was shocked the people Bartrend  _ had _ hired on hadn’t _ mutinied  _ at this point, “He’s not even  _ half _ of one of you! I mean, six months later, and he  _ still _ hasn’t gotten all of the funds together - but look!” The Merchant Prince placed the coin purse back on the table, making a sweeping gesture towards it, “ _ You’ve _ managed to accomplish what he couldn’t in  _ eight _ .”

In response to this stroking of the pride, Carver puffed his chest out and nodded his head. “Well, we  _ are _ pretty damn good.” Ugh, now Varric had gone and stroked Junior’s ego. Goodie. Thankfully, Hawke shot her brother a judgmental look, which caused him to stop parading about like some overstuffed Orlesian and glare at her. “What? It’s true!” He complained.

She rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t mean you should  _ brag _ about it.” The elder Hawke muttered. Carver huffed and went to interject, but she cut him off. “So, Varric! How soon before we get this ball rolling?” There was a brief pause, and she quirked a brow. “You know, if anything  _ can _ roll in the Deeps.”

“You make an excellent point,” Varric snorted, trying to imagine  _ anything _ rolling on the craggy ground of the Roads. “But, in all seriousness, it’ll be a  _ week _ at least. Bartrend needs to get supplies, and recruit a few more hirelings.” He leaned forward towards the table, resting his elbows against it. “So, wrap up anything you need to finish before then. We’re going to be  _ very _ busy, Rosie.”

Roslyn smirked.

“And here I thought going into the Deep Roads would be  _ easy _ .”

\-----

It took almost two weeks before the expedition was  _ finally _ ready.

Bartrend had - begrudgingly - agreed to hire the Hawke siblings as the expedition’s partners. The clink of gold was the only thing keeping him from throwing them out honestly; but at least he finally said “yes.” Once that was settled, the four business partners arranged that the spoils would be split in half - half would go to the Tethres brothers, and the other half to the Hawkes. Each set of siblings would then divide the riches up amongst themselves. Likewise, Bartrend needed some more muscle, something Roslyn was able to help with. Well, at least she thought.

Some of her companions were less...amiable to the expedition then she and Carver were.

Isabela had flat-out said no, citing the fact that she and caves didn’t really get along. Roslyn figured it was due to the fact the Pirate Queen had a wee bit of claustrophobia. Which made sense, considering the few times she had dragged Isabela along to her spelunking adventures for her never-ending quest for more gold, she was a bit...squeamish. Not that she blamed Isabela, and she didn’t really press the issue. Of course, she didn’t even  _ ask _ Aveline. The fellow red-head had a full time job, that she was recently promoted in to Guard-Captain. Thanks to Roslyn’s help, mind you, but she didn’t rub it in Aveline’s face.  _ Too  _ much. Aveline could tag along with Roslyn’s normal misadventures, but disappearing for weeks - or more - to go treasure hunting was another story.

Plus there was...a lingering sense of guilt. Roslyn couldn’t drag Aveline into the Deep Roads. Not after what the guard had experienced in Ostegar, and with Wesley. So she just let Aveline know she and Carver were off, and the Guard-Captain said to be careful. Well, as they could be. And she warned Varric that if anything happened to the Hawkes, she’d schedule a  _ personal _ ass kicking. Much to Varric’s delight, of course!

Anders, of course, Roslyn wanted to bring. As much as he protested about being dragged back into the Deeps again, they needed him. As a Grey Warden, he could sense Darkspawn and that would be  _ very  _ handy. Not getting ambushed by the buggers would be much appreciated. Honestly, she wasn’t sure  _ how _ she finally managed to convince him to tag along, what with all of the arguing back-and-forth they did for nearly a week. Maybe his sense of guilt got to him, who knows? Or Justice.

Come to think of it, it was likely Justice. Slippery spirit.

Merrill was hopeless to bring. As much as Roslyn adored the Dalish elf, her sense of direction was...err,  _ questionable _ . To put it mildly. If she got separated from the group anywhere down there, the poor girl would probably never see the light of day again. And getting stuck down in the Deep Roads to be killed by Darkspawn - or turn into one - was a horrible fate.

The only one left of their rag-tag group was Fenris. Surprisingly, he had readily accepted the offer to come along when Roslyn offered it. No questions asked, no arguing. Just...acceptance. It was weird. She wasn’t sure if he was just bored, or actually wanted to come along. The only one of her group of “volunteers” to come willingly - Varric and Carver didn’t count. She could only hope Fenris and Anders wouldn’t end up blowing up the Roads with their arguing. Please, Andraste,  _ please _ let them get along for once...

With some parting worries from her mother, Hawke gathered her group together and met up with the rest of the expedition at one of Kirkwall’s exits, nearest the entrance to the Deeps they would be using.

“...And the entrance we chose is nice and virginal, ready for a good deflowering!” Bartrand gave a rough laugh, obviously finding his analogy hilarious.

“...Well, that’s an interesting image...” Varric mumbled to Hawke.

“Could be worse. Not sure how, but it  _ could _ be.” Roslyn managed a forced, awkward chuckle, trying to push that imagery from her mind. Varric snorted his response.

“...Fair point,” He conceded. In their little exchange, they missed some of Bartrand’s posturing. Not that Roslyn cared, really.

“--And it’s virtually  _ untouched! _ ” The older Tethras brother snorted.

“...And  _ that’s _ an innuendo if I ever heard one,” Hawke sighed melodramatically, shaking her head at commentary. She heard both Varric and Fenris chuckle at her snarky remark.

“You’re  _ awful _ .” Carver half-groaned, half-chuckled. Roslyn shrugged her shoulders and flashed him a sicky sweet grin,  _ especially _ since she was certain he approved of the comment. Carver scoffed at her and crossed his arms.

“...And we’ll be venturing down for at  _ least _ a week to find this thaig, and longer to plunger it for all it’s worth!” Bartrand clenched his fist dramatically before him. “So, are you ready to make a sodding fortune?!”

“Yeah!” The expedition roared.

“Then lets get the sod out of here, and find our wealth!!” Bartrand swept his arm out dramatically, turning on his heel. He beckoned the expedition to march forward.

The bronto’s groaned and began to pull their heavy carts of supplies forward. Food, blankets, mining equipment. Everything they would need heading down into the Deep Roads. Each member of the expedition followed alongside the beasts, each step rattled with the clang of their tools or weapons against their bodies or each other. Everyone walked with a spring of excitement in their step, following after Bartrand and the brontos.

Roslyn smirked. “Here’s the start of a new adventure, eh Carver?” She grinned and cocked her head up towards her towering brother. Carver looked down at her.

“Let’s just hope it’s worth it, Roz.”


	6. Into the Deep

“Maker’s breath,  _ why _ did I agree to this again?”

It had barely been a three days into their little expedition, and the team had already run across a hiccup or four. Though, honestly, Roslyn wasn’t sure exactly  _ how _ long they had been down in the Deep Roads. Without any sunlight or any way to tell day and night apart and all. Still, it  _ felt _ like only a few days had past before issues began to arise.

The primary one, of course, was the path they needed to take was now blocked off by a cave in. One that would take  _ far _ too long to clear, and they only had so much in the way of supplies. So, of course, Bartrand had “volunteered” Roslyn and her little band of merry misfits to find another path. And, along the way, one of the hired hands - a dwarf named Bodahn - had lost his son. A son that was a wee bit slow in the head. Naturally, Roslyn was  _ also _ “volunteered” to go and fetch the poor sap before he got eaten alive by Darkspawn. Thankfully, that was easier then finding another path around the cave in.

“So many blighted corners, dead ends and  _ cave ins _ .” Anders continued to gripe from his previous statement, “Not to mention the Darkspawn! Ugh, I  _ hate _ it down here.” Roslyn had lost count how many times the other mage had said that in the last thirty minutes. Maybe she should keep a tally.

Varric gave a short, disgruntled snort. “Yeah, I’m not happy to be here either, Blondie. I hate caves.” Anders replied with a hollow chuckle.

“We’re quite the odd pair, aren’t we?” His tone lightened a bit, though it still had some bitterness in it, “A Warden and a dwarf who hate the Deep Roads!” Varric gave a short laugh.

“You’re telling me!” He chuckled, “Sounds like something out of a novel.”

“...It  _ does _ make one wonder why you chose to become a Grey Warden.” Roslyn looked behind her to see Fenris, who was surprisingly  _ not _ antagonizing Anders at the moment. He looked like he was was actually intrigued, tilting his head to the side and keeping his eyes trained on the human. Not that she blamed Fenris for being curious, she was herself. It was odd how much Anders detested the Deep Roads, considering how Wardens spent  _ most _ of their time down in these pits.

“I didn’t have a  _ choice _ , really.” Anders sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was either join the Wardens, or a good ol’ round of hanging. At the time, this  _ did _ seem the better option!” His voice pitched up, and he cocked a small smirk. “Too bad they don’t tell you when you join that you’re just going to die  _ anyway _ .”

“Hrn.” The small groan was all that Fenris responded with. At least he and Anders hadn’t been fighting like a pair of cats in heat this entire time, which Roslyn was thankful for.

Still, despite how much Anders was complaining, he was invaluable right now. Given his ability to sense the Darkspawn, he had routed the group to a less populated path. And the added bonus of warning them when a group of the bastards were lurking somewhere, especially out of eyesight. He also advised the group on how to deal with them, and even suggested they all fashion scarves out of cloth to keep their mouths covered when they fought the monsters. Anything to avoid accidentally swallowing Darkspawn blood was helpful. Roslyn wasn’t keen on contracting the taint. Put a bit of a damper on the day.

Speaking of...

Anders suddenly stopped, the grip on his staff tightening.

“More of them?” Carver asked, drawing his blade.

“A big group,” Anders narrowed his light brown eyes. “There may be an alpha or an emissary with them.”

Roslyn was already pulling her scarf up over her mouth. “And no other paths to take, either.” She sighed, “ _ Lovely _ .” She twisted her staff in her hands, holding it at the ready for when the ‘Spawn would arrive.

Sure enough, the moment the group rounded the corner, a herd of the Darkspawn were waiting for them at the end of the path. There were about twenty of the buggers, lead by an emissary. Just charming. Maker’s breath, she  _ hated _ it when Anders was right.

At least in their wanderings, they had worked down their plan of attack to a  _ science _ . Neither she nor Anders could use their most damaging spells down here, not with walls of rocks threatening to collapse at any moment. But, they had worked out a neat little trick. One that had saved their hides several times in the past.

Anders charged a slow-moving fireball in his hands, then thrust it forward. While it began to move forward, Roslyn summoned her own ice magic, surrounding and freezing the fireball  _ very _ briefly. Then, before either the ice melted or the fire died out, Anders clenched his fist suddenly. The fireball exploded, the hot and cold air from their combined spells would clash, creating a thick blanket of steam.

With the Darkspawn sufficiently distracted, Caver and Fenris rushed forward. Hawke saw the glow of Fenris’ lyrium markings through the steam, cautiously watching them dance beyond the mist. It was rather fascinating how much it would take to mask the glow of the lyrium in his skin. But, it ensured she could keep track of where  _ he _ was at least, especially since he was usually shorter then the steam. And, judging from where the she heard the lyrium singing inside of Fenris, he was heading to the emissary.

Carver, on the other hand, made so much noise fighting or was taller then the blanket of steam, making him much easier to spot.

While the two warriors dove in for close-range combat, Varric quickly flanked the still-distracted ‘Spawn and began to pick them off with Bianca. The steam began to settle and dissipate, Roslyn noticed about half of the buggers were already downed. Now it was time for her and Anders to move into action again. Thrusting her staff into the ground, she released a wave of ice spikes towards a small cluster of Darkspawn, the spikes piercing through some of them, while others were frozen in place.

Carver took the initiative and leaped forward, bringing his sword down on one and cleaving it in two, then turning on his heal and cutting another one apart in the  _ other _ direction. A spirit bolt from Roslyn here, a fireball from Anders there, and the two mages started picking off the stragglers. Fenris had managed to take care of the dangerous emissary on his own - Roslyn had noticed his lyrium markings gave him the ability to absorb magic with enough focus - leaving only a handful of the bastards left. In a matter of moments, the last of them fell, and the danger was over.

Except...Anders was still tense.  _ Charming _ .

“Anders?” Hawke asked cautiously, still keeping a tight grip on her staff.

“Something’s wrong...I can still  _ feel _ them...” He muttered, his brown eyes sweeping the cavern.

“Oh...that can’t be good...?” She responded with a low, uneasy chuckle. Anders continued to search for the source of the taint he sensed, and quickly stopped when he realized what it was.

He blanched. “Oh no...it’s Shrieks!”

“What are--” Roslyn didn’t get to finish her sentence when a high-pitched shrieking noise filled the cavern. Suddenly, from the shadows popped four  _ more _ Darkspawn. A kind she had never seen before; and they all had wicked looking blades attached to their forearms and fists. They lunged towards the group, her eyes growing wide.

“Carver, look--!”

Roslyn’s warning came too late. One of the Shrieks had emerged from behind her brother. His head began to turn to see what it was behind him, but with how  _ quickly _ the monster showed up, he didn’t have time to defend himself. The shriek raised it’s bladed hand up and swiped out at Carver, right across the side of his face and tearing his mask off. Roslyn saw his blood spray across the ground from the wound, his body jerking to the side from the force of the blow.

Gritting her teeth, Roslyn lunged forward and swung her staff around, hitting the Shriek clean across the face with the mace-end. It made a gurgling noise, blood spraying from it’s mouth and stumbled to the side, but didn’t have a chance to recover when it suddenly found itself impaled on a spike of ice. Well, to be fair, it  _ did _ have a chance to scream before it died, spraying more of it’s putrid blood from it’s mouth. Thankfully, between Fenris and Varric, the rest of the Shrieks were easily disposed of.

“Carver!” Hawke rushed over to her brother, kneeling down beside him. Blood was pouring in copious amounts from the left side of his face, pooling onto the ground below him. He spat some of the blood out, one of his hands gripping the fresh wound. Anders quickly rushed to Caver’s side, already reaching for the bag of medical tools at his waist.

“Let me see.” Carver grunted and turned his head towards Anders, lowering his bloodstained hand from his face. Roslyn bit down on her lower lip when she saw the wound.

A long, deep,  _ nasty _ gash split the left side of Caver’s face. It split the corner of his lips over an inch beyond where they were supposed to end, the gash becoming less deep and ran up along his jaw-line and towards his cheek bone, finally ending just before his ear. She grimaced when she saw the open wound and split lips, but couldn’t look away from it. Anders made no change in his expression when he observed the wound, merely reaching into his pack.

“Varric, Fenris? Keep an eye out for Darkspawn or spiders,” He instructed. Fenris gave a short nod of his head and took point, resting the tip of his blade against the ground and holding the hilt with both hands. Varric flanked them, resting Bianca on his shoulder.

“H-how...ngh...b-ba-ad is i-it...?” Carver slurred, spitting out more blood.

“You didn’t swollow any of their blood, did you?” Anders asked, handing a clean cloth to Roslyn to help stop the bleeding while he dug for his surgery supplies. She pressed it to Carver’s face, and he hissed in sharply when the crude linen touched his wound, but didn’t complain otherwise.

“D-don’t th-think so.”

“Then all you’ll have is a scar,” Anders assured with a tense smile. Carver grimaced.

“On the plus side, some women find scars attractive,” Hawke tried to lighten the mood, forcing a chuckle. Carver snorted back a laugh, wincing and groaning when it caused his wound to throb more.

Anders quickly stitched up the split in Carver’s cheek, and a bit more where the wound was still gaping. Using a bit of healing magic on the rest, he uncorked a bottle of water and poured it on some more fresh linen, hanging it to Roslyn to clean some of the blood off. With the wound cleaned, Roslyn winced again at how bad it looked. But, she had to remind herself - it would just be a scar, once Anders was done healing it. Sadly, even  _ with _ Ander’s talents for healing, it would still probably take days for the wound to heal completely. But, it was nothing to worry about.

“Alright, you’re all set.” Anders rose to his feet, offering a hand to ease Carver up. “Just...try not to talk much, at least until it’s mostly healed.” The ginger-haired warrior gave a slow nod of his head. “Normally, I’d recommend alcohol to help ease the pain...but it’s going to burn on your wound like a  _ beast _ .”

“I’ll live.” Carver muttered.

“Alright, with that out of the way...we have to find another way out of here, don’t we?” Roslyn offered uneasily, trying to shake off the racing of her heart from Caver’s injury. “Let’s keep moving.”

\-----

“How in Andraste’s sacred name did a  _ dragon _ get all the way down here?!”

It didn’t take much longer for the group to find an alternate path around the cave-in. Which involved, ironically, fighting a dragon to get there. Although it had been hours since they made it back to camp to collect the rest of the expedition and rerouted them, Hawke was  _ still _ going on about the dragon.

“At least we didn’t accidentally stumble into an Archdemon!” Anders tried to lighten the mood, though even his chuckle was a bit forced. Everyone knew that if they had run into an Archdemon, he was the only one in the party that could actually kill it. And likely die trying. Normally, Fenris wouldn’t complain about the loss of the abomination, but he knew Anders was important. For the moment.

Though it  _ did _ beg the question of why the Hero of Ferelden didn’t die when she killed the last one, but no one had any answers in that matter. She was probably just lucky.

“Don’t remind me, Blondie.” Varric gave a disgruntled groan, rubbing his temples. “As if we don’t have  _ enough _ problems down here, accidentally starting the Sixth Blight so soon after the Fifth is the  _ last _ thing we need.” Anders gave another forced, awkward chuckle.

“Maker’s breath, with all of the trouble we’ve run into...I had better be  _ swimming _ in gold by the time we’re done.” Hawke complained, heaving a melodramatic sigh.

“Agreed.” Carver sighed, his tone still slightly slurred from the healing wound on the side of his face.

After re-routing the expedition down the path they had found, there was even more venturing further into the Deep Roads. Time was irrelevant down here, with no day or night. They stopped when they needed to rest, slept when they were tired and ate when they were hungry. However, it didn’t take more then two rests before they neared their destination. According to Bartrand, at least.

The cavern they ventured into began to widen the further in they went. It was clear they were closer to at least  _ a  _ Thaig of sorts, though whether or not it was their goal had yet to remain seen. Everything had been going smoothly for the past while, but then Hawke just...stopped.

Fenris lifted his head when he noticed the red-haired mage had halted before him. Studying her posture, she was tense, uneasy, but surprisingly unguarded. Narrowing his eyes, he approached her, looking down at her and noticing her wide eyes, staring straight ahead of them. No one else in the expedition seemed to notice aside from him and Carver, who had turned on his heel when she stopped.

“Roz?” Carver asked, furrowing his brows. She didn’t respond. Cautiously, he walked back to her and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. Hawke jumped backwards, jerking her head up towards her brother with a startled expression. It was almost like she was  _ frightened  _ by something. “Roz, what is it?” He asked, more softly then before.

She took in a slow, shaken breath, looking past Carver and ahead again. “I...I-I feel lyrium. A  _ lot _ of it.” The mage swallowed hard again, her brows knitting together. “But this...th-this feels... _ wrong _ . So wrong.” Hawke rubbed the side of her forehead with her knuckles, her lips pressing into a flat line.

“We’ll be careful,” Carver tried to assure, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Releasing her, he turned forward and continued after the rest of the expedition. Hawke rapidly shook her head, her long tresses flowing with the quick movement.

Fenris watched Carver walk off for a moment, then returned his attention back down to her. “What is it about the lyrium that feels wrong?” He inquired. Because of his own markings, he could feel lyrium as well, but it wasn’t as...intense. Hawke had a very fine sensitivity to it, which may be related to her own nondescript connection to the Fade. He still didn’t know the extent of it, honestly.

Hawke swallowed hard again. “Usually...lyrium has a buzz, or it hums. Ki-kind of like a  _ song _ .” She looked over at him, her brows arching downward in worry. “But  _ this _ ? It’s muted, distant...but I can hear it. I can  _ feel _ it. It’s not a soft humming or a gentle song. This...th-this is a distant, blood-curdling  _ scream _ .” She gave an involuntary shudder, rubbing her forehead once more. “We shouldn’t be here. We can’t keep going. Whatever in the Maker’s name is down there, it’s still faint but... _ horrifying _ .” Hawke wrapped her arms around herself, taking in another ragged breath and looking ahead.

Fenris looked down at her, so unused to seeing her so... _ frail _ . Normally, Hawke hid everything behind a mask of humor and an air of confidence. While he had seen the mask lift here-and-there, it was never like this. Although he had known her for several months now, he felt like he didn’t actually  _ know _ her. And was unsure how he could help, but he felt like he should for...some reason. The feeling was foreign to him.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure how he  _ felt _ about her in general.

Hawke was a mage. In that regard, he couldn’t trust her.  _ Shouldn’t _ trust her. At all. Yet he did, and why was a mystery. All his life, he had known that magic was powerful, and power corrupted easily. All mages were susceptible to this evil, and all of them would, eventually, give in to it. Both Anders and Merrill were a testament to this.

But not Hawke.

Odd was it was, Fenris somehow found himself drawn to her. Hawke was friendly and outgoing, and seemed to get along with most everyone she came across. Himself included. As much as he tried to hate her at first, he just couldn’t. She hid everything behind humor, seemingly didn’t take  _ anything _ seriously, and never gave a straight answer. But, at the same time, she did. Hawke knew when to be serious, even if it never showed. She cared. She cared a  _ lot _ , probably too much. It would be a weakness in most anyone, but not her. Somehow it became her strength, and it’s what drew people in; especially those who were misunderstood, like he was. And she was respectful of the fact that he needed distance, and never pried unless he offered it first.

Plus her strange, unique sense of humor almost always got him to laugh. A sensation that was altogether foreign to Fenris. And to his surprise, he actually  _ liked _ to laugh.

Right now, Hawke was worried.  _ Outwardly _ worried. She had dropped her usual poise and posturing, and her sass and sense of humor had vanished. Her sensitivity to lyrium and her affinity with the Fade was filling her with dread right now, a feeling that couldn’t be ignored. Hawke felt it was unsafe to continue, so it likely  _ was _ . But everyone was ignoring it, except him.

With hesitation - and a bit of nervousness - Fenris reached out to her. He lightly placed a hand on the pauldron over her shoulder, careful that their skin wouldn’t brush against each other. Hawke jerked her head up to look at him, surprise clear to see in her green-blue eyes.

“F-Fenris...?”

“If you think that there is danger, then I believe you.” Fenris offered in a low voice, keeping his gaze steady on her. “And I am with you, Hawke. Whatever decision you choose to take.”

The worry briefly left her expression. Hawke reached up with her opposite arm and gently lay her hand against the top of his. Her palm rested against the metal of his gauntlet, her fingers brushing against the vambrace. A faint, gentle smile came to her.

“...Thank you, Fenris.” Her voice was as soft as her expression. “I’m glad you’ve got my back.”

Hawke didn’t allow him much time to dwell on this, however. Lowering her hand from his, she took a deep breath and steeled herself, pressing forward. Fenris stood there for a few moments, watching her move towards the front of the pack, his brows furrowing.

That smile...it was the first time he noticed how beautiful she was.

\------

The further they ventured, the more uncomfortable she got.

Further on in the cavern they were in, the expedition found the Thaig they were looking for. Roslyn had suggested to just quickly grab what they could carry, and get out as soon as possible. The screaming had only gotten worse, and her head was starting to pound. But, of course, she was ignored. No one ever listened to the mage with a lyrium sensitivity!  _ Maker _ .

Except Fenris. He remained close to her, surprisingly  _ protective  _ of her, and approached the whole situation with caution. She was glad at least  _ someone _ listened to her. Still, they went further and further into the blighted Thaig then she would have liked; but she wasn’t alone as they moved deeper.

Fenris was the first, which didn’t surprise Roslyn. Due to the lyrium in his skin, he could feel other sources of it, or when mages or templars had it on them. It was to a lesser extent to her of course. The first thing that happened was his markings began to itch, a lot. He had started to scratch near-constantly, and she felt bad for the poor bastard. Fenris had also commented that they had begun to burn, despite not being active right now.

Anders was next, being a mage as well. He also noted that Justice felt something was... _ off _ . But, of course, didn’t elaborate on it. Just that he  _ also _ felt Darkspawn taint, but there wasn’t anything  _ alive _ this far down. Nothing but them, at least. Not even spiders or deep stalkers! Strange.

Roslyn’s group moved ahead of the others. She didn’t like this, and wanted to go back, but she knew she couldn’t just abandon everyone. Her headache had only gotten worse, and now she was starting to feel a bit queasy. Hopefully they’d find something worthwhile and get out of dodge.

Venturing up a staircase, the group entered into a room that looked like some kind of...alter, or sanctuary. The distant screaming turned into a loud howl in her head. Instantly, the headache Roslyn had been nursing turned into a head-splitting migraine, her vision beginning to blur from the pain. Fenris’ markings involuntarily burst to life in the room, but even the pleasant song of his tattoos didn’t drown out the ear-splitting screams. Even he gave a hiss of pain.

Red-tinged lyrium lined the walls of whatever sanctum this was, surrounding some kind of central alter. The entire room was painted in an eerie red light, but nothing was worse than the cries she heard coming from the alter itself. What in the Void was up there?

Roslyn stumbled backwards and held her splitting head, her stomach lurching with the pain. She didn’t even notice that her knees had buckled suddenly. Someone caught her by the shoulders, though she didn’t know  _ who _ . They eased her down to the ground, but it didn’t help the migraine or the screaming in her head.

“Roz!!” Carver was holding her, she could just barely make out the shape of his form from her blurred, aura-filled vision.

“We shouldn’t be here!” Fenris’ shout was muffled, like he was very far away right now. She couldn’t even see the blue glow of his markings anymore, everything was being swallowed by the red.

“Roz! What’s wrong?!” Carver once again shouted, though even he sounded distant.

“N...n-no...” Roslyn whimpered, her voice coming out so weakly even she didn’t hear it. Forcing her head up, she blinked through the pain-filled blur of her vision, trying to find her companions in this red-stained hell. Fenris was close-by, kneeling beside her, her vision clearing up just enough to see the blue glow of his lyrium shining through the red. Anders wasn’t anywhere to be found, maybe he was reacting as badly as she was. Groaning, she tried to find Varric in the sea of crimson, finally spotting him walking towards the alter. Drawn towards it, like he was in some kind of a trance.

“S...s-some...o-one...s-stop Va...V-V-Varr...”

Fenris was up in a flash, his glowing markings making him easier to spot. But between her blinks, Roslyn saw him dive in and out of the eerie glow of the red lyrium surrounding the room. She hadn’t noticed his hand was against her arm until she felt it grow cold from the lack of his touch.

Even with how fast he could move, Fenris was too late.

Varric picked up  _ something _ from the alter - Roslyn’s vision was to foggy from the agony her head was in - and he said something to Bartrand behind them. When did he get there? But she didn’t have much semblance to think when the cries and the screaming of the red lyrium intensified. The splitting of her head turned into feeling like it was exploding in slow motion, the pain becoming so severe she couldn’t even  _ think _ right now. Everything that was in her stomach lurch and twisted, before coming up all at once in a stream of bile.

And the world faded to black.


End file.
